


We're hanging by a Thread

by AmbecaWatson



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV), Supernatural, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Blood and Gore, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Daryl, Established Andrea/Michonne, Established Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills, Established Joe Corbin/Jenny Mills, F/F, F/M, Initial Homophobia and Racism from Merle, M/M, Minor Character Death, Missing Persons, Nearly Human Castiel, Slow Burn Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Terminus (The Walking Dead), The Prison, Top Dean, Top Rick, Violence Against Walkers, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbecaWatson/pseuds/AmbecaWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if the Team Free Will and the Mills sisters had been stranded in the Walker Apocalypse? Can they find a cure with their combined experience of the Supernatural and will the group manage to survive until they find it?</p><p>We're hanging by a thread. We are THE WALKING DEAD  - Papa Roach, Walking Dead</p><p> </p><p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overview

Just a short summary of the contents of this story at first, I will upload the first chapter once I finished another story I'm working on (Don't worry, it's gonna be done on the weekend and then I will work on this).

I always wanted to write a piece set in the world of the Walking Dead, and since both the ladies from Sleepy Hollow and the boys from Supernatural have experience in battling supernatural apocalypses it seems like the right choice to fusion those three fandoms of mine.

The story begins when the group around Rick first enters the prison, but it switches point of view until the Mills Sisters and Team Free Will join them. After that they will become a big group and interact in various ways.

I draw inspiration from both the comics and the TV series of the Walking Dead to build this world, which makes for slight changes in characterisation and appearance of the Walking Dead group. For instance:

  * Andrea is her awesome comic self and never went to Woodbury (up to comic readers if she ever had her relationship with Dale or not since he's not figuring into this story).
  * Carol is her TV self which is why she is alive at this point, but Sophia is dead.
  * Lori died during child birth like in the series and Judith is (and will remain) alive. Rick copes better with this because Daryl helps to steady him.
  * Rick's hand is intact and Michonne's captivity in Woodbury was not as brutal as in the comics, nevertheless it did happen and she has already gotten her revenge on the Governor.
  * Michonne, Tyreese and Sasha were with the group the entire time they have been in the comics.
  * Merle did not torture Glenn and Maggie, but he stood idly by while the governor tried to get information from Glenn and Michonne. He left of his own free will and the confrontation where the people of Woodbury demanded for one brother to kill the other did not happen.
  * As we all know by now, infamous villain Negan will be played by an actor known from Supernatural, which will be addressed in here. Also the striking resemblance of Bela and Maggie will cause confusion.



The selected cast from Supernatural and Sleepy Hollow are as seen on screen, and for now Ichabod Crane is missing which has a lasting effect on Abbie.

As far as sex is concerned, there will be explicit scenes between Dean/Cas and Rick/Daryl as the story progresses.

And as a last note: It is **not essential** to be familiar with all of these series as I'm sure the interaction between the characters will be universally understood even if unfamiliar with one or two of the media I refer to. There might be reference to the plot of Supernatural or Sleepy Hollow, but it is essentially a zombie apocalypse fic which can even be understood if unfamiliar with the Walking Dead. 

I hope to get the first chapter out by Sunday, and from then on I'm gonna update at least once a week. 


	2. Chapter 1: The Joys of being a Sibling

“I don't like this,” Dean Winchester said gruffly as they cleared their path through a pulk of zombies to finally get into the pharmacy the had put their eye on when they came here.

“Yeah, we got that the first thousand times you said that,” Sam huffed to his right.

“I wish I still had my powers,” the former angel Castiel said almost equally gruffly to Dean's left, another phrase they had heard often during the last nine months of constantly fighting for their lives and hoping beyond hope that they would wake up the next morning and all this would have turned out just to be a bad dream.

“Will you idjits quit your whinin' already?” Bobby huffed, finally getting the chain link around the pharmacy doors off and then motioning for them to get in.

“Go, go, go, go, go,” Dean gestured wildly and ran to the door while Sam and Cas backed in as well, killing the last of the zombies with their machetes, and chaining the entrance right back up. They had chopped their way through them and none had remained alive or undead for that matter, but their fight hadn't been quiet and nose always drew more of those things.

“Anything we need?” Dean asked Bobby, only taking what he was instructed to take and not having a clue of what antibiotics or painkillers the older man thought were essential.

“Couple a' things,” the bearded man quipped and whisked the contents of an entire shelf into the bag he carried. “That should cover it. Let's see if they have a secure backroom or something so we can catch some shut eye before we go on from here, it's near dusk already.”

Everyone nodded and followed Bobby down through the main storeroom, which wasn't good for spending the night in, too many windows.

“Small, chained window,” Dean quipped as they quickly checked the managers' office.

“Secure door, chair to put under door handle,” Cas added.

“Gore-free carpet to sleep on,” Sam reported.

“Seems as good a place as any, and better than some,” Bobby gave the final verdict.

They got down on the floor, drawing up their legs while Cas unpacked the cans of food he had in his pack for when they had to stay out over night.

“Peaches?” Dean asked, downcast when he was presented with his dinner. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I would kill for something that's fresh, even if it's salad.”

“Or red meat,” Cas joined in, his tastes still being influenced by the body that had once been his vessel, but was now his alone.

“Don't start that,” Dean groused, his anger about the whole situation unloading on Cas as it tended to do these days. “Don't make it even worse by adding something I'd usually like to eat.”

“I was just recalling what I miss the most right now,” Cas frowned.

Sam sighed into his own can of peaches while Bobby just dragged his baseball cap lower on his forehead and crossed his arms, ready to call it a night before Sam would wake him when his watch started.

Dean and Cas argued some more and the former angel gave back as good as he got, but Sam had equally gotten pretty good at blending their constant bickering out. He finished his dinner without ever saying a word, and didn't even comment when Cas cast Dean a last vicious look, going over into the farthest corner to curl himself together, facing the wall.

Sam observed Dean, wanting to confirm once again what he had noticed repeatedly since this whole thing started.

Dean remained sitting in the middle of the room for a while, his brow furrowed but after a few minutes he went over to Cas, edging closer and whispering: “Sorry,” into the former angel's ear.

“I know,” Cas answered and turned around. “You should stay close in case something happens,” he added, facing Dean in the growing dimness of the room.

“Well if you insist,” Dean groused in mock annoyance, but when Sam checked the corner where they lay as soon as his watch was over, Dean had taken Cas' hand and held onto it as if it was the last thing keeping him from falling apart these days.

“That's new,” Sam yawned and stretched out while Bobby quietly sat on the chair barring the door to start his own silent watch.

* * *

  “Abbie, calm down,” Jenny urged her sister while she rammed wooden spikes into the forest floor and spanned wire around them, hanging pans and little bells onto them, anything in fact that made any noise, so they would be warned if a zombie came by their camp tonight. Although calling it a camp was really a bit stretched in Jenny's opinion. They ran low on anything that Sheriff Corbin had told them was essential to survive out here and without any contacts, Jenny would not be able to get her hands on any protective objects, even if she had anything to trade them for. Which she hadn't. So most of the points on her list of what made a supernaturally secure camp were actually missing.

The only thing she had, was a traumatised sister who she had barely been able to drag from the herd they had seen across the road a few days ago. Ichabod, the chivalrous idiot that he was, had ran into a different direction, cursing the 'abominations' loudly, and now the sisters did not know where he was or, Jenny hardly dared to think it, if he was even still alive.

She didn't want to risk causing anything to draw attention to them, but on the way over here she had found a wild camomile plant and now she was making Abbie tea. She figured that if zombies were anywhere nearby, the light and noises of crackling wood would draw them here before she put it out and then they'd be able to sleep for a bit at least, having cleared the nearest surroundings.

“Here, drink that,” she put the tin cup into Abbie's hand and sat down next to her on the ground, bathing in the short respite of warmth and quiet as Abbie drank her tea, offering Jenny the cup too now and again.

“Thank you,” she said when Jenny stomped the fire out and scattered the ashes.

“Do you feel better now?”

“A bit,” Abbie smiled, hugging her with one arm as Jenny laid down next to her so that they could warm themselves over night.

“Don't zone out on me, ok?” Jenny whispered when Abbie had already closed her eyes. “You left me alone often enough. Don't do it again.”

“I won't,” Abbie replied, not so asleep as Jenny had thought. “I won't ever leave you again. But we have to find Crane. If he's still out there, we might still have a chance to stop this. If he's not, if there is only one remaining witness, we know we've failed.”

“He's out there, I'm sure,” Jenny said with more conviction than she felt, but if it was pretending he was still alive to keep Abbie sane and with her, she would pretend until the day she died.

* * *

 

“Carl, come back here!” Rick shouted, the prison walls echoing a little from his commanding voice.

“I'm gonna help Hershel with the garden,” Carl shouted back at him, not even once thinking of listening to his father.

“Don't be out too long though, come in when the sun gets too high.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl shouted again, running off to get outside of the dingy grey walls.

“Can you blame 'im?” Daryl, who had heard the entire exchange, asked now.

“No, I guess I can't expect that he wants to be in here, not after the things he's seen happening. Speaking of, has someone cleaned up the... signs of the birth?” Rick described what had happened, his hands covering his mouth afterwards.

Daryl seemed to notice that he was struggling to keep himself from breaking apart, so he only nodded, his hands finding the handle of his crossbow over his shoulder to hold onto. He was a simple man, words weren't his forte, but he felt a great deal of sympathy towards his friend. Losing his wife, having a newborn and a rebellious son who had to watch his mother die had to be anything but easy.

“I'm going on a run,” he said, slightly switching the topic because being productive always seemed to help Rick. “Little asskicker needs formula.”

“Little asskicker?” Rick grinned fleetingly.

“Yeah,” Daryl shuffled a bit, nervous all of a sudden, Rick's smile so rarely seen that it startled him that he could have made it appear just like that. “I just figured since you and Carl haven't decided on a name, yet...”

“I like it,” Rick smiled again, and Daryl took a sidestep back because he hadn't been ready to see that quite so soon after the first one.

“Take Glenn with you,” Rick commanded and Daryl nodded; this he could deal with. “Michonne too, if she's up to it. See if we can really trust her.”

“Andrea seems to,” Daryl shrugged. He had gotten used to having Michonne around, she did her part for the community, even if he caught her talking to herself a couple of times. Whatever it takes for her to make it, he had shrugged it off.

“I don't. Not yet.”

“A'right,” Daryl gave back and went to find Glenn and get ready, when Rick spoke again.

“Hey, Daryl? Don't get surrounded out there.”

“Won't,” Daryl quipped and had to turn around quickly because there was this smile again that seemed to do funny things to his stomach. Being surrounded by roamers was about the worst that could happen out there, so what it really boiled down to now was that Rick had told him he wanted him back safe.

The thought seemed to do even stranger things to Daryl as he, Glenn and Michonne forcefully knocked against a store front a couple hours and miles away from the prison, then waited with baited breath for sounds of walkers within, but the only thing they heard startled them because it came from the outside.

“Hey, brother. Miss me?”

Daryl flinched and turned around, aiming his crossbow at a sight which his eyes didn't seem to transmit to his brain. His brother was in front of him, right hand missing and instead having a contraption strapped to it with a long knife protruding dangerously at the end.

“Merle, that really you?”

“Alive and in the flesh, and no thanks to you and that group of yours,” Merle Dixon rasped, grinning in a way that if Daryl had to describe it in one word, would be called 'dangerous'.


	3. Things we don't say

“It's good to see you, brother,” Daryl came over, letting his crossbow sink as a sign that he didn't want to fight. “What brings you?”

“The Gov sends his love. Maybe not,” he amended at once. “At least not for her. After what she's done to him,” Merle scrunched his eyes at Michonne, a cruel smile on his face.

“Nothing he didn't deserve,” Michonne gave back, raising her katana because she didn't trust Daryl's brother at all, having nothing except memories concerning him, remembering him standing behind the man who had tortured her for days on end.

“That's why I'm here,” Merle nodded. “It just didn't sit right with me what he did, and though I really liked to see the biters pulled apart in our little games and stuff and living in Woodbury was damned easy, he's gone to far now. I'm here to warn you. He's gonna attack, and when the time comes, you need every hand on deck. And even though I can only offer one,” he chuckled about the painful removal of his chained hand back in Atlanta when they had formed their little group of survivors. “I'll do it, offer one hand to help, I mean.”

“You understand of course that we can't just take your word for it,” Glenn jumped into the conversation, standing behind Michonne and in the back of his mind hearing her strangled screams again while he waited for his own fate to be decided during their captivity in Woodbury.

“Yeah, no. I get it,” Merle smirked. “If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either. Sooo,” he held out both arms with his wrists close to each other as if he invited them to cuff him, the metal contraption providing a stark contrast to his remaining hand, and he laughed coughingly when Michonne went back to the car they had driven here and tied his arms together with a piece of rope they carried around in case of emergency.

“Do you really think it's a good idea to take him back to the pr... where we live?” Glenn asked Daryl, not wanting to let him know about the prison before he remembered that they had pressed the information out of Rick already when they had been in Woodbury.

“If we blindfold him it should be fine. Anyway, ain't my call what happens to him,” Daryl spoke up so Merle could hear him. “Rick decides, or the counsel. I just gotta follow.”

“That guy your man's man or something?” Merle asked after hearing what Daryl decided. “He's sure got you under his heel, huh? That the prize you gotta pay for you letting him bugger you? 'Cause you see...,” he addressed Michonne and Glenn. “My brother here is a poof, likes to take it up the ass, always has. Makes him just the same like you black bitch and you Chinese kid in my opinion, probably why he feels so at home with you people.”

“He's Korean,” Daryl bit out angrily about Merle blabbering on about the secret he'd not told anyone in the group, and definitely didn't want to tell anyone... ever. “And Michonne's not a bitch.”

“But you're still a damn queer,” Merle spit out.

“Ain't nothin' damned about it,” Daryl raised his head high, even though he seemed a bit fidgety again just like when Rick had smiled at him from out of the blue, dramatic interpersonal reactions always a little too much for him.

All his life he had been told that it mattered that he was gay, or as his dad used to call it: The wrong way 'round. Now there was no more dad, and there hadn't been any Merle for a long time either, and Daryl had thought that it ceased to matter. To people like them under the circumstances anyway.

But he still didn't want to talk about it. Talking about anything that wasn't runs or walkers made him uncomfortable. He was certainly not gonna sit someone down and talk about his big crush on Rick and how hopeless he felt that it would ever amount to something and just preferred to ignore his feelings. They had bigger problems than that anyway.

“We gotta figure out what he wants and what he knows. And if it doesn't work out-” Michonne started, ignoring Merle's revelation and taking one step closer to Daryl to show her sympathies.

“We kill 'im,” Daryl supplied, his heart heavy, because despite everything, Merle was still his brother and they had been through a lot, but if push came to shove, he'd have to choose.

Even if that was the decision that people would come to, he wouldn't gonna let them kill his brother and if he had to, he'd leave with him to make sure he never brought any in-tell back to the Governor. If the metaphor hadn't been so suggestive, he might have thought that it didn't matter how far up Rick's ass he really was or not, he wouldn't let anything happen to Merle because he knew he'd do the same for him, despite his dismissive words and the reveal of his little brother's big secret.

How long until Rick would know it? Glenn would tell Maggie, Maggie would tell Carol, Carol would tell Tyreese and so on. It was only a matter of time until Rick found out about it. And Daryl wasn't sure he was gonna be able to deal with the inevitable rejection whenever it came. Better not knowing, not saying anything than to hear a definite no. 

* * *

 

“Jenny, wait up,” Abbie called after her sister. Her police training had made her fit no doubt, and the months out in the open trying to find a possible solution to this mess had made her even tougher than before, but Jenny was a _machine_. The entire time she had spent at Tarrytown, the mental institution she had been in on and off after their joined first encounter with the supernatural, Jenny had trained until her muscles screamed. She was strong and very fast, picking plants while running, which could be useful either for magic or for healing later on.

Back when this had first started, they had met a few people who scavenged places, but Jenny thought that that was not gonna last indefinitely, no more pharmacists working made for scarce supplies pretty damn soon. Crane had agreed with her, and Abbie knew that if Jenny and him agreed on something, there was never any real objection to be raised by _her_.

Thinking about Crane hurt, even when she thought about all the battles they had fought together to stop the apocalypse, he was always there in her thoughts and it stung cripplingly no matter how strong she wanted to be for Jenny.

“Don't be so slow, Abbs,” Jenny called back to her, crashing through the thicket straight ahead from them and making so much noise that it should make her incapable of hearing the zombie coming up from the side, but before Abbie could call out a warning, Jenny had already unsheathed her two long knives and clean cut through the creature's head from both sides.

Abbie couldn't help but admire her sister for her wide variety of arms she had shown her skills in over the past couple of months, her own weapon of choice still her gun, the only skill she could rightfully boast about exceeding Jenny in expertise at. And at least she knew how to melt whatever scraps of sufficient metal they found into bullets so she never ran low on ammo, otherwise it would have been an obsolete skill by now and she'd have felt completely useless.

When they had left Sleepy Hollow, Crane had chosen a musket with a bayonet at the end of it from the Founding Fathers' Museum as his weapon of choice. It was one of those things that long dangerous blades at the end which she had never been able to put a name to as a kid and with which he could 'skewer the onslaught of the wretched undead', and he had hardly loaded it after a while, tough luck if it could shoot only once anyway. Still, he was sentimental and the weapon did it's job one way or another.

Damn, she missed the guy. Now that he had lived in the technological age for a while he could understand the comforts that electricity, cellphones and even damn TV set meant to the sisters, but he had just as easily taken to a world where he had to do without all that again.

What he had most missed was the limitless information on the internet and Abbie knew that he still considered it a personal failure that his photographic memory of everything he had ever read before the connections had died had been to no avail in aiding them in their new peril.

Abbie didn't have leisure to think about her situation concerning Crane's absence and the general situation any longer because the zombie that Jenny had taken care of hadn't been alone.

“Here,” Jenny shouted and Abbie caught one of her knives in the air, chopping off the head of the nearest zombie with the same movement, and thinking that maybe she wasn't so useless as she had thought about being just now as they systematically dealt with the thread.

She had lost Crane, and she had no idea how to solve everything that surrounded her, but she could damn well hack some undead rubbish to pieces and keep her sister safe.

* * *

 

“Are we leaving sometime soon or not?” Bobby asked when Dean took too long for his liking.

After the pharmacy, they had found a vehicle, Dean groaning as he hot-wired it because he still missed his own car, which was hopefully relatively safe back in South Dakota in Bobby's triply locked up garage. It wasn't likely that anyone ever made it through all the junkers in the yard and figured out they all didn't work and then still have time enough to pick the locks and steal the Impala.

“Still figure we should've just stayed in the panic room,” he moaned, and thought himself disgusting for how much he'd taken to whining these days as the engine finally started up with a low, somewhat dusty sound.

“We were there for ages, Dean. And no books that Bobby had could ever help us-”

“That's why we're travelling the country for all his contact's houses and see what we can see and if there is anything supernatural-library-like that we can use. Cas' memory can be accessed, but he has no idea how to cure this either, so I shouldn't constantly pick a fight with him,” Dean intoned the rest of Sam's speech as if he was a broken record player. “I _know_ , ok? After a while there just aren't more things to say because nothing we ever do ever changes anything and wherever we come to, it's the same. We're never gonna get ahead of this thing. You know, by now I'm thinking this is something like the Croatoan virus. We all carry it and we're all infected. People turn who were never bitten.”

“We don't know that for sure,” Sam repeated something he had also said too often lately.

In fact they hardly knew anything about this plague that had already killed most of the population, except that it was dangerous and infected body parts had to be hacked off quickly so the venomous or infectious bite didn't spread out into the entire body and caused a fever that always resulted in death. Nobody that had ever caught the disease had survived it so far.

They had encountered a few communities along the way, some of Bobby's hunters network among then, training people up to deal with undead monsters trying to eat them, but none made any real plans to solve the main problem of the growing zombie population in a world they barely managed to survive in at all. No efforts for anything beyond mere survival, was what they had heard in tons of different varieties all over the first half on the country that they had scoured so far. And that as they say, wasn't the Team Free Will way. As long as they lived and breathed, they would try to find a cure for the zombie apocalypse even if they might not be there to enjoy seeing the world restored.

They couldn't really believe that this apocalypse should have absolutely nothing to do with the angels or demons, but ever since this whole thing had started, they had seen fewer and fewer of their usual supernatural baddies. A few months in they had hunted a Wendigo, which had taken itself out because it had consumed the rotting flesh of the undead when he couldn't find fresh game anywhere and had been poisoned and slowed down so much that it wasn't even fun for Dean when he torched it.

Maybe that was why they hadn't seen any of the monsters that preyed on humans. They were probably starving or already starved because there wasn't enough food for them anymore, the undead taken everything they could get their teeth into and making it brackish.

Nobody wanted to think about the other possibility which had made the Wendigo unable to attack them apart from it's food poisoning because technically they were fresh and the perfect antidote for the poisoned zombie that had been the Wendigo's diet before. Perhaps they just didn't smell appetizing anymore which would be another piece of evidence for Dean's theory that they all carried a virus.

“Where are we up to now?”

“Should be Georgia next,” Bobby grunted.

“Great,” Dean smirked widely, but his face fell immediately afterwards, making it evident that he hadn't wanted to convey happiness at all. Another state which wouldn't give them any more answers than the last one did.

“I need to urinate,” Cas told them quietly and Dean groaned.

“Man, you gotta control your bladder more, we can't stop this thing all the time,” Dean immediately gave back.

“I am sorry if I can't control a human's bodily functions as well as you can,” Cas said sourly. “I _am_ after all new to all of this.”

Dean caught Cas' expression in the rear-view mirror and flinched. Back in his Smitey McSmiterson days, Cas would have appeared pretty damn threatening right now, but the impression faded away fast when he squirmed in his seat. His bladder had to be really damn full for him to say anything at all.

“Right, Sam you keep the car running. Cas, I'll come with you.”

“I do not need you to hold my penis for _this_. I have done this before.”

“And who will cover your ass in case a zombie wants to bite a big, juicy part out of it while you take care of business, huh?”

“I'm guessing you,” Cas sighed and rolled his eyes when Dean parked and Sam took over the wheel, the former angel leaving for the woods and the human following with a machete and a frown about why Cas had said that he did not need Dean to hold his penis for this. _This_ , he remembered the strange intonation that could only mean Cas wanted him to hold his penis for something else. No, not _wanted_. Needed. Why needed? 

Dean usually always kept his back to people he covered while taking a leak, but now, he caught himself turning around curiously.

Cas had one of his elegant, tanned hands clasping the bark of the nearest tree while his other hand was in front of him, his muscles going taut from reaching around his body. Dean tried not to imagine what he would look like from the front, but then Cas let out a low, happy groan, his arm flexing a bit.

'Don't think about what he's shaking there, Winchester. The guy is peeing and you're gross', Dean thought to himself, but still flinched when the sound of Cas' zipper going up reached his ears.

“Do you need to go as well?” Cas asked, stalking through the brush and reaching out to take Dean's machete.

“Yeah,” Dean croaked, turning around and trying to pretend like nothing was the matter. He needed to take a leak pretty damn badly, only possible reason why he was sporting morning wood now. Nothing to panic about. Tonight, he'd have a jerk off, hadn't done that in a while. Clean the pipes for a bit. And maybe he should stop sleeping so close to Cas, or... he blushed while remembering how he had woken up to Cas examining their tangled hands with fascination when Bobby had shaken Dean awake for his watch and Cas had laid so close to him that he was shaken awake as well.

'Stop taking his hand, stop sleeping pressed up against the dude and take more peeing breaks,' Dean made mental notes.

When they were back in the car, he didn't want to admit to himself that he was still swollen, hadn't peed at all, and that his heart had jumped up and down when Cas had given him his weapon back and had brushed against his hand.

So what if he liked the warm touch of their hands pressing against each other? It was nothing to panic about, Dean rolled his eyes about himself, somehow feeling as if Cas was watching his neck the entire time because it prickled no matter how much he flexed it.


	4. New havens and old animosities

Abbie was exhausted. They had run practically the entire night, the herd that they had outrun for a while having turned for some reason and being hard on their trail again. Well, as hard as they could be at their laid back walking and grunting pace anyway. Outrunning them was what they had done often, but it never ever got less straining for them. People used to say if you walked 5 flights of stairs everyday you'd get used to the exercise, but you really didn't. You just had to have one bad day, or too many groceries in your bag and you would be exhausted all over again, panting for air and having to take several pauses. And from the way things were going now, everyone constantly had bad days. And that was something that was potentially lethal in this hostile world. Whenever you took a pause it also gave the dead a chance to catch up with you.

So, they ran. They ran the entire night, only brief breaks to drink water and reorient themselves.

“Who knew there were so many woods around here,” Jenny panted out, Abbie next to her and not allowing herself to cover her like she usually did because they were faster this way.

“I don't know, just make sure we don't trip. My tracking skills are still not all up there with yours.”

“That's what you got me for,” Jenny said, both of them sighing happily when the first signs of daylight showed themselves on the horizon.

“Isn't it strange that after all this time knowing we're never ever safe, a new morning still brings new hope?” Abbie asked when without saying anything they halted for a few seconds to watch the sun come up.

Jenny turned her head in all directions to make sure they were all clear, visibly starting and stopping her movement while she did this. “Well maybe today, there is new hope,” she quipped and raised her arm. Abbie's gaze naturally turned into the indicated direction.

“A prison?”

“Most likely.”

“Inhabited?”

“Ditto,” Jenny said shortly.

“Do we really want to go there? We don't know anything about the people living there... and farming there by the looks of it,” she added when she could make out signs of tilled earth and even something pink and dirty, looking like a pig.

“We don't really have much choice. We're running low on a lot of things and we could use some rest, even just for a few days,” Jenny seemed lost in thought. “We have outrun the herd by now, I'm sure of it. And when we're rested, we search for Crane.”

“Really?” Abbie asked, knowing that even though her sister loved Ichabod almost as much as she did, she didn't hold out much hope for his survival at all.

“Yeah, gotta make sure he's returned to you all in one piece and only slightly dirtier than usual.”

“Hey, he washes.”

“But I don't wanna know how much he stank back where he came from,” Jenny continued to tease.

“Not as badly as you do right now,” Abbie grinned, smacking her lips into a cheeky grin.

“Right back at you, sis. C'mon, we need to make our way down there. Looks like some zombies are on the fence. Maybe if we clear the path, they're gonna be grateful and allow us to crash at their place for a bit.”

“Yeah, let's,” Abbie gave back and even as exhausted as they were, they drove the zombies away from the fence and made sure that when they dropped this time, they stayed down permanently.

“That was a very skilled display,” a weak-sounding voice reached their ears when they cleaned their weapons on the grass and Jenny sheathed her blades again.

“Thank you,” Abbie smiled friendly at an old, white-haired man inside the fences of the prison.

They walked over, trying to avoid the zombie blood staining their shoes, another thing that had been preserved from the good old days. People still didn't like to step into any sort of puddle.

They stared at each other across the fences, Abbie and Jenny knowing they had to look ragged and haughty, but the old man on the inside still looked at them with a friendly expression.

“What happened to you?” Jenny asked, her head indicating the man's missing lower leg and how he held himself upright with two crutches.

“Got bit,” was the answer.

“And then... Oh.”

The man nodded, still smiling even though the amputation of his leg could not have been a laughing matter at all. He seemed genuinely happy, or at least laid back. Abbie wondered how that could possibly have happened in times as these where everyone had one or two grievances in their recent journals.

“Nice place you got here,” Jenny tried to find a way to come to the point of their curious conversation. “Is there any way, we could stay a night, or a few days tops? Me and my sister are kinda beat up as you can see and we could really use a safe place to crash.”

“I'll put the matter to the council,” the old man gave back. “Though I am sure some of us would not want you to stay, there are unused cell blocks that you could sleep in and I think it would make us all feel safer around each other if we bolted the gates inbetween, just to prepare you.”

“You'd lock us in,” Abbie stated, a sinking feeling in her gut.

“Temporarily,” the old man nodded. “You can discuss this while I tell them to open the gate and get the council to vote. It's not safe for any of us if you stay out there for so long. Name's Hershel, by the way.”

“I'm Abbie Mills and this is my sister Jenny.”

Hershel nodded, seemingly pleased at the introduction, and then made his way back up the hill inside the prison to where they could see more gates and fences but also where the main complex had to be.

“I don't know Abbs,” Jenny shook her head.

“You said it yourself,” Abbie remarked, not able to shake the ominous feeling either. “What choice do we have?” 

* * *

 

“Seems like we have more newcomers,” Hershel told the council a few days later.

“Who's it this time? More ragged girls, or missing brothers gone to Woodbury and come back?”

“No, it's a pair of brothers with their father I think, and another guy.”

“No! We can't do it. Taking in those two girls was one thing. They're quiet enough and we're safe. But I don't like the sound of a group of 4 guys in here,” Rick got up, gesturing as he spoke. “I know this is a democracy now, but I still think that taking them in would be a bad idea. I saw them when they arrived. They're tall, rowdy looking fellows.”

“Could be good for gardening or defending the place if it comes to that,” Carol shrugged.

“They look like they can really handle themselves,” Glenn added, Maggie agreeing.

“I don't think they're dangerous. I mean everyone these days is dangerous, but not dangerous to people just wanting to survive,” she drawled.

“Daryl? You can't be ok with them coming in here?” Rick turned to him as a last ditch try to get someone onto his side.

“Can't see why not,” Daryl quipped. “We could use 'em if they turn out to be good people.”

Rick gave him a look as if he couldn't understand why he had been betrayed, but Daryl raised his head a little, blinking meaningfully and hoping it conveyed his defiance but also his respect for Rick. He may have a thing for the guy, but that didn't make him lose his judgement of the situation.

As Rick sat down, Daryl wondered if he'd ever have said anything against Rick's opinion hadn't Merle told him repeatedly during the last couple of hours that he wouldn't.

The prison was apparently fuller now, since everyone except Rick welcomed the new arrivals, even though they were of course also wary of them. As Daryl understood it, they had made their way halfway across the state in hope to find a solution to this mess, hadn't yet managed to come up with any clues and were a leaderless group.

Rick seemed to notice this power equilibrium as well, because he barked at them: “Who's in charge? Who's your leader?”

“Ehh,” the one next to the tallest started. “We don't have one, I guess?” he chuckled a little nervously.

“But you are calling most of the shots,” the dark-haired one next to him said.

'Call the shots?' the one who had spoken first mouthed at the other guy. “Nevermind,” he went on, addressing the group. “We make the decisions together, mostly.”

“See,” Daryl stepped closer, speaking into Rick's ear. “They don't want to take over, they aren't even organised that way.”

Rick nodded, and Daryl caught himself admiring his profile from up close before stepping back.

“Better watch yourself, you might catch the gay,” they heard a sonorous chuckle from the solitary cell across the 'living room', where they had locked Merle up.

As much as they didn't trust the Mills sisters or these guys, Merle was even more of a thread, so they had decided to keep him close just in case he wanted to pull something.

No one but Daryl even dared to enter his cage to bring Merle food and drink, and in the beginning to unstrap the metal he had on his arm. Daryl had been sad when he'd seen the stump where a healthy hand used to be, but had tried to hide it so Merle wouldn't ridicule him for his pity.

Right now he was annoyed again because it really wasn't fair to let everyone directly in on his sexuality. That is everyone who hadn't yet heard about it. Daryl was sure that almost everyone knew by now, but it was different to have the subject come up with the group present.

“Like you can 'catch' it,” the older man of the newcomers made his opinion known. “You're born with it, or you ain't. Some are so, and others ain't. Not anyone's business to judge that.”

Daryl thought the man sounded a little cranky, very much like his dad had, except for that the man didn't seem like a mean drunk like his old man. He seemed more like Hershel, except with less manners and religious optimism, but with rougher edges that still made him likable at first glance.

Merle seemed taken aback a little by the retort, but his smug nature didn't allow him to be affected by it for longer than it had lasted.

Daryl thought that when the next meal-time came, it was high time to talk some with Merle and let him know that he wasn't gonna be bullied any longer. Just because he was the only queer that Merle had ever met, didn't mean he couldn't broaden his horizon now. They weren't the smartest people, either of them, but if Merle could only get past his prejudice, he might even be able to start being a part of the community that Daryl really didn't want to leave.

“What's the deal then? You have no leader, and you travelled up and down the country. That about it?”

“Yeah, mostly-” the short-haired one started just when Glenn and Maggie came down from the cell block, not smiling, yet not unwelcoming.

“You?” the short-haired guy interrupted himself, pulling an interesting and dangerous looking knife from his belt. “What are you? Why are you here?” he came towards Maggie, knife at the ready.

“What the hell?” Glenn shouted and jumped in front of his wife immediately. “What are you talking about? _What_ is she? She's my wife, and you better back off right now.”

The guy with the knife seemed to reconsider now, blinking and frowning.

“Sorry. She's a dead ringer for someone who we've met in a previous life. And by previous I mean before this whole thing started.”

“Really? You know this guy?”

“Never seen him,” Maggie drawled and the whole group except for the dark-haired one with the steel blue eyes creased their brows about something.

“Can't be, Dean. She's not-”

“I know, Sammy.”

“But can we be sure? You still got a rosary on you so we can make... ?”

“Yeah, always. But I don't-”

“Ok there, wackos,” Glenn stopped them. “Before you talk anymore shit, how about you back into that cell block over there and we all cool off for a while.”

The group of four stepped back into one line, now finally telling them their names. Dean and Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, not blood relative, but family nonetheless and the other guy was called Castiel.

“Castiel and how else?”

“Does it matter? These days it doesn't seem to signify much to have a surname,” the dark-haired guy began with a slight frown.

“Winchester,” the short-haired guy named Dean bit out. “His name is also Winchester. And he's with me.”

“Right, so you'll be sharing your cell, then?” Rick asked as they went into the next cellblock.

“Yes,” Dean said a little aggressively, but definite as they were led off into another direction than the group had come out of.

* * *

 

“Dean, I am not _with_ you,” Cas intoned as they took a look around the cellblock. “If that is the term for what humans use for intimate relationships and-”

“Cas, shut up for a sec, ok? I know you're not with me, but you ought to stick close to someone. You sleep too deep, probably because you still need to adjust. And if one of them decides to kill us overnight, I can get you awake easy,” Dean tried to explain his stunt from before when he didn't even know why he even tried to come up with something.

He had reacted out of a necessity, Cas bearing no last name after all, and it would have looked too weird to have one guy without a surname, who was generally weird and dorky but who was kept around for no reason. After Dean's shortfusing reaction to the woman named Maggie and their conversation afterward, he didn't want to spook the people in the prison more by trying to explain why Cas was the way he was. But to be honest, none of this explained why he had said that Cas was with him. He could've said he was with Sam just as easily. When he was honest with himself, he just didn't want to sleep without having Cas near him.

“Well, anyway. We couldn't tell them you were an angel, not after that stunt I pulled.”

“To be honest, I kinda thought she looked like Bela too. Only the accent threw me.”

“Shouldn't she have turned by now? Full blown demon crawling back outta hell?”

“Demons? What do you know about demons?” Abbie Mills suddenly emerged from the cell she had shared with her sister for the past two nights.

“Yeah and what's this talk I hear about angels?” Jenny came out, unsheathing her knife, prowling like a tigress as she gave Abbie one of them as well.

* * *

 

“Why did you let them keep their weapons?” Daryl asked Rick when they were going back to their own block after having locked the newcomers up with each other.

“Because I think that Dean guy has too short a fuse, and after what Hershel told us about those girls, they may take care of this without either of them ever giving us any trouble.”

“So what's your plan? Just let them kill each other?”

“And then go in to make sure they stay dead,” Rick said ominously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Du-dum, comic-like cliffhanger.


	5. Comparing Stories

“I believe we asked you some questions,” Abbie said and Jenny was happy to see her sister's feisty nature return in the face of a potential threat.

“You hunters?” two of the new arrivals in the cell block asked the sisters in unison.

“We what?” Abbie and Jenny gave back likewise.

“Hunters, of the supernatural,” the dark-haired guy who held himself a little in the background specified for them.

“No,” Abbie shook her head. “At least that's not how we call ourselves. But supernatural, yeah.”

“So, you know about angels... demons... monsters too, right? And you hunt them?”

“Sort of. We make sure they can't hurt anyone ever again.”

“How'd you get started?”

“Dean, woah. Isn't that a little too personal?”

“We gotta know, Sammy. Can't have crazy people or impostors going 'round, calling themselves experts or somethin'.”

Abbie caught the looks between the two speakers and very distinctly felt that they were closely related, brothers most likely.

“When we were little, we saw something,” Jenny started now, and Abbie turned around, wondering why she told this to strangers. “Our mother knew some stuff about demons too, and that's kinda where this all started. You?”

“Same,” the one called Dean said curtly.

“Sooo, we're all on the same page here, right?” Jenny asked haltingly, holding everyone in her gaze for a second, before she distinctly sheathed her weapon again.

“We should talk,” Abbie added, following her sister's example.

 

“So lemme get this straight,” Sam tried to get order into the different accounts a couple of hours later just when the sun seemed to set from what they could see from the inside. “We each meet a demon.”

“Moloch.”

“Yellow Eyes.”

“And we each have to stop the apocalypse from happening.”

“Yep.”

“But there are still so many things I don't get,” Sam wanted more explanation. “This angel. Orion, wasn't it? Why could you see his wings?”

“Because Orion never paid much attention to a proper disguise,” Castiel added.

“What?” Dean asked him. “Does that mean your wings aren't just shadows, but are actually there?”

“They're not,” Cas squinted his eyes at Dean. “Not anymore, you ass.”

“What did you just call me?” Dean creased his forehead.

“I was expressing my irritation at you being so insensitive as to ask me about my wings, which I no longer have,” Cas fumed.

“Sorry,” Dean raised his arms in defeat, muttering 'princess' under his breath when he turned around again.

“Also, what I don't fully understand is why our stories about the horsemen are so different,” Abbie continued.

“I guess because in your case, the riders of the apocalypse were being actual people. So I'm thinkin' this was Lucifer's back-up plan, in case something went off with the whole thing. You said, this Abraham fellow has been the horseman of Death since the 18th century? Then he can't be the real Death, can he?” Bobby asked.

“They must have carried their spirit, nothing more. Maybe this whole apocalypse was long averted by generations of hunters. Think about it,” Sam gestured wildly because everyone just looked at him like they didn't understand a single thing. “Your part of the story goes back centuries, but what if Lucifer had back-up plans like this all throughout time. Maybe the Romans had to deal with this kind of thing too, o-or any other generation of hunters before this whole thing broke out. It was always just foretold when the story would end, but would Lucifer really leave it up to chance to succeed?”

Everyone needed a bit of time to think about what Sam had said.

“He _is_ the adversary,” Cas began slowly. “It would make sense that he would have enslaved the horsemen to do his bidding all throughout and it seems logical to have the essence of the riders being implanted into others, otherwise the similarities between what we lived through and the Mills sisters' accounts could not be explained. I can't access my entire memory, but some of the catastrophes I've witnessed while being stationed here are too apocalyptic to be random happenstances.”

“So you're saying it's all 'same story, different verse' and this whole thing we've got on our hands now could just be another chapter of Lucifer's genius plan to wipe out the entire human race? He had plans that even exceeding us stopping him? That sounds just fucking like him,” Dean groaned and Sam nodded, knowing intimately well how Lucifer thought and that his cunning exceeded everything they could ever hope to understand.

“You're talking Lucifer as in the actual devil, right?” Abbie asked.

“The very same,” Bobby hummed.

“So this zombie infestation could just be another demonic virus? Or a new breed of monster that that chick from purgatory you met cooked up?” Jenny asked.

“What does it matter what this is? We just have to find a way of stopping it,” Dean rasped.

“Fat chance of that without any lore to research. I figure your archives didn't contain anything that can help us?” Sam asked the sisters.

“No, nothing. If there was anything, only Crane would know about it. And he's not here,” Abbie got up, and raised her head to stare out through the barred windows set high in the grey outer wall of their cellblock, the last hour of daylight tinting the sky red.

“This Crane guy might be our best shot, actually,” Sam said. “If this is really another Lucifer related deal and we're right with this being just another thing that he cooked up, maybe there is something he remembers, or that he's read about in a history book or another.”

“We gotta find him,” Abbie turned around again, hugging herself and pressing her lips together.

“And how do you think that's gonna work? The other people in here already think we're nutjobs. Do you think they'll let us out to look for bicentennial man who is most likely dead already?”

Abbie blinked about the brashness of her new acquaintance, but she also wondered if Dean's shot of gritty realism wasn't exactly what she had needed right now, because she felt fighting spirit rise in her that the thought of Crane and what it would be like to live without him permanently hadn't allowed to break out of her paralysis before.

“Yes, that is what we will do. And if we don't find him, we figure out a way to deal with this on our own.”

The weight of Abbie's words lingered in the air until they all flinched because someone knocked at the bars to their cellblock with a ring of keys.

It was the man called Daryl who blinked at them, and rasped: “Got you some food. Figured you might be hungry already,” and unlocked the door to push a pot with some sort of stew through it along with six sets of cutlery and plates.

“Thanks, Daryl,” Jenny smiled at him, like always when he had brought them food during the days they had spent here already.

“Ain't nothing to it,” he answered and sat down on the other side of the gate while everyone came closer and let their plates be filled.

“How is it out there?” Abbie asked Daryl and the Winchesters quickly noticed that their evening chat must have become somewhat of a routine already because of the familiar way the conversation was carried.

“It's quiet. Everyone's back at their usual business after the fuss you caused,” he nodded at the newcomers.

“And your brother?” Jenny asked him, but only got a shrug in return.

“Same as ever,” Daryl left it at that. “Listen, I know we discussed this and you wanna pull your weight around here, and if it were up to me, I'd say yeah. I can see you're good people. But Rick and the others might not warm up to you at first. We're a tight community and have good reason not to trust strangers. But from what Merle told me, we could use some extra hands real soon.”

“Why, what's going on?” Sam asked.

“The people here have some trouble with another community that's nearby. The leader there is a real piece of work. Had some of them hostage and really wants to get in here,” Jenny told them.

“So you're gonna fight him?” Dean asked.

“If we have to,” Daryl nodded.

“But they're just people,” Dean went on.

“Yeah, that's what makes 'em dangerous. People want what other people have,” Daryl said, feeling like it was time to leave again and see if everything was alright elsewhere and his gaze fell onto the half-empty plates. “Just leave 'em all here, I'm gonna collect that later. You should pick your bunks and settle in. Sure you had long-ass days like everybody and could use some rest.”

“Yeah, we could,” Dean mumbled when Daryl had already left, pondering about the new information he had just gotten. “So we're not permanently stuck in here and they'll call us when they need us to defend the place. We only wanted a place to crash and maybe find out if they had any idea how to end this thing,” he thought about how they had found the prison and discussed staying here for a bit with Hershel and later with Daryl too who had come down to let them in.

“And you found us,” Abbie added, before she and Jenny went into the cell they had chosen, they heard her mutter to Jenny: “Three witnesses is better than one, right?” and Jenny nodding at her.

“Right, so that leaves us with finding some cells for ourselves,” Dean peered at the two levels of cells. “Faster escape from the low-level one. Height advantage and unexpected way to run from the higher ones.”

“High ones,” Sam nodded and climbed up the metal stairs that even though they were clean showed a certain kind of disuse that was everywhere to be found these days. That there was no maintenance also showed in the cells themselves. The mattresses would have repulsed them when they checked into the sort of cheap motels that they had stayed in before all this, but here they felt like heaven now.

All a question of change of perspective, Dean thought as he pulled Cas into a cell by his sleeve.

“Oh,” he uttered when Cas took one look into the cell and dragged Dean back out, lifting one end of a bunk bed in an unused cell to indicate that he wanted to carry it over.

“You could just take the top bunk, you know that, right?” Dean panted as they carried the pretty heavy contraption over.

“That would defeat the purpose of my cover story,” Cas shook his head and aligned the second bed to the one already in the cell so that it fit. “Do you want to sleep next to the wall?” he asked, his eyes wide and open as if he didn't know that what he was doing was a little inappropriate.

And how should he know, Dean sighed in thought. What with him being the one to creep up on Cas during the night, he shouldn't raise objection to Cas wanting what he was used to now.

Yet somehow, as Dean muttered: “I always sleep on the left,” and scooted into their bed close to the wall, he felt like this was way different from before. Did it really matter that they were not on the run now and had an actual bed to sleep in? Why did this make things so different?

Dean curled up, facing the wall and tried to stay calm as he heard the bunk next to him creak and Cas stretching out with a quiet sigh.

“It's just sundown and yet I could sleep for days,” Dean babbled, not knowing why he started talking, but he kept going. “Even if there was a TV in here or somethin', I don't think I could focus long enough to enjoy it. But I would kinda like to read a book one of these days, if you can believe it.”

He turned around to face Cas and almost immediately regretted it because Cas lay turned towards him and his face, though less angelic than he'd gotten to know him and more on the greasy peach fuzz side was so much more impressive while just inches from Dean's nose. And those eyes that caught his fancy on a good day were simply mesmerising from up close.

“I can,” Cas sighed and turned onto his back. Dean had to remind himself that he had talked about books and entertainment before staring at the former angel.

“Cas,” he got out with a choked sound and when Cas turned his head to him again, smiling slightly and asking “Dean?” he felt himself inching closer as if he just couldn't help it.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, not moving away as Dean came closer, not even when he almost lay across him diagonally and Dean whispered his name again before pressing his lips to Cas' gently.

They remained like this for a few seconds, shock freezing Dean into place, but Cas squirmed a little after a while which Dean took as a good sign, moving their lips together, light touches and sounds escaping him as he worked them over Cas'. When he wanted to add tongue though, Cas stopped him.

“Dean, no. I do not want this.”

“What?” Dean gave back as if all air had been knocked out of his lungs in one go.

“I don't want this,” the former angel said again.

“Cas... you kissed me back. You moved your lips against mine. Your fingers are in my hair and your other hand is cupping my neck,” Dean reminded Cas of the obvious, dragging the hand out of his hair and pressing a quick kiss to it.

“I know,” Cas mumbled, swallowing hard as he pulled his hand out of Dean's grasp. “But I do not want this.”

“Ok,” Dean said acidicly, and wanted to get out of the bunk, maybe find his own cell for the night in the sudden rush of anger and hurt he felt, but Cas' arms around his waist stopped him before he even made a real move.

“Don't go, don't leave me,” Cas groaned, pressing his cheek into Dean's back and holding on tightly.

“I'm getting really mixed signals here, Cas,” Dean sighed but let himself be pulled back onto the mattresses.

“I know. Just don't go,” Cas whispered into Dean's neck, even kissed it lightly, causing Dean to to shiver all over and roll around to face him and roughly pull him into his arms, nearly squashing him because he hugged him so tightly.

“One day, you gotta explain this to me,” Dean shook his head, settling with Cas still in his arms, muttering 'weirdo' before falling into a deep sleep, too tired to unravel the mystery of his feelings for Cas, and Cas' feelings for him.


	6. Blossoming

When Dean woke up in the morning, Cas wasn't in the bed next to him, but was apparently already out there, because he heard his low, grating voice in conversation with the sisters they had met yesterday, probably to receive more information about their various encounters with the supernatural.

“Weren't you supposed to look out for him? What, with you sharing a cell for that sole purpose?” Sam blinked innocently when Dean look a peek out of his cell and saw his brother doing the same.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean bit back immediately. “I still gotta talk to you. Last night, I... did. A thing.”

Now that he'd had a good night's sleep, he considered his action rash and from what Cas had said, clearly unwanted. Why on earth had he given in to those desires that, if he was being completely honest, had been rising ever since he'd met Cas, and had maximised when the zombies came to town and being close to people became essential for survival.

“A thing?” Sam asked, not sure if he wanted to hear what Dean had done.

“Yeah, probably a very stupid thing. I- I kissed him, Sammy.”

“Yeehaw,” Sam let out and actually punched the air once, before he let his fist sink down awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Good on you,” he added a little more reserved.

“No, actually. Not good. Cas said he didn't want it.”

“What?” confusion was clearly drawn on Sam's face now. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Dean raised his arms high in frustration, tugging at his hair viciously and nearly toppling over.

“Woah, Dean. Calm down,” Sam reacted instinctively and held onto Dean's hands so he wouldn't rip out his hair. The last time he'd seen him this upset was when he thought that the Impala had been stolen, when it turned out that it had only been moved by Bela.

“I just thought, my stupid reluctance was the only thing stopping us, you know?” Dean got back on his feet, but still leaned on his brother. “That he wouldn't want me... this... the thought just didn't cross my mind.”

“You should talk to him. Get to the bottom of this. Because I know both of you, and from what I see, Cas is just as into you as you're into him. There's gotta be another reason.”

Dean groaned, and shook himself. The whole situation was overwhelming to him for some unknown reason. Usually, he never talked about this sort of thing with his brother. But _usually_ , a voice in his head reminded him, it doesn't matter if someone doesn't wanna be with you because you don't give a crap about them anyway. But this is Cas, and the guy clearly means more to you than you ever admitted to yourself. And now, in the face of the possibility that he's just not that into you, you finally swallow a bit of your own medicine. Doesn't feel good, does it?

“Shut up,” Dean groaned out to quiet his stupid brain.

“I didn't say anything,” Sam answered automatically.

“Wasn't talking to you.”

“Then who?”

“Nevermind, Sammy,” Dean finally felt like he wouldn't fall down the stairs from disorientation and got vertical again.

“I really think you should talk to him, though,” Sam repeated, shaking his hair out of his forehead and thinking that he might have to ask Daryl if they had running showers in this place. He liked his hair long, but he wanted it clean, which wasn't always possible. When it got too greasy, he tied his hair up in a ponytail, and after a few months, Dean's cackling laughter about that had gone down to a bare minimum. But even now, when he got out an elastic, Dean let out a short, hoarse laugh about Sam's appearance.

“Back to normal,” Sam was pleased to observe as he clapped his brother's shoulder on the way down to where Cas was sitting with the Mills sisters and where they could see Bobby and Hershel debate across the gate.

“I know you'd like to feel productive and when the matter of where to put you comes to vote at a council meeting, I'll vote for you, but you gotta understand that we have a lot of trust-building to do, particularly after what your son has almost done to my Maggie.”

“Maggie is your daughter?” Dean asked and walked over. “Yeah, sorry. It's just that we knew someone who looked exactly like her, but the chick... uhh... young woman,” Dean seemed a bit embarrassed, rubbing his neck as he added: “was British.”

“I can assure you that we're not and if some distant ancestor of us has been that's still got nothing to do with us.”

“I understand,” Dean said, but as soon as Hershel had limped out of earshot, he grunted to Sam: “I still don't trust this. Think about it, the chick has the same age that Bela would have now.”

“But Dean... Bela went to hell. You heard the hellhounds in the background when you talked to her for the last time. And if she'd really be topside now, shouldn't she look different than when she was alive? Her meatsuit would be a rotting corpse by now.”

“What in this world isn't?” Dean mumbled, feeling himself shrivel inside when they passed Cas and he didn't look up to bid him good morning.

 

“I still don't think we should let those strangers live among us,” Rick voiced his opinion, even though Hershel and Daryl vouched for the newcomers at their next council meeting.

“Duly noted,” Glenn initiated the vote. “All those in favour?”

Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Hershel and Daryl all raised their hands and only Andrea and Rick didn't vote for yes, Andrea explaining that she saw it like Rick did and that too much had already happened with newcomers.

“Since when are we the people not giving new people a chance?” Glenn asked, looking at everyone they had gotten to regard as family since the first days back in Atlanta.

“Alright,” Rick surrendered. “As long as they still sleep in their cellblock and we in ours. While there's daylight, we can watch 'em, but I wanna be able to sleep at night with as little worries as can be.”

“Yeah, that would be my objection too,” Andrea added. “And maybe keep the children a little closer to ourselves.”

Daryl observed Rick's reaction to Andrea's last words carefully and caught up to him when the meeting was over.

“Ey, Rick,” he jogged up. “This is about lil' asskicker, isn't it? You're scared for her safety.”

“Yeah, and Carl's. They're all that's left of her,” Rick couldn't say the name of his deceased wife yet.

“I get it,” Daryl nodded, reaching out to pat Rick on the back, but letting his arm drop in the very last second, glad that they were in the almost completely dark hallway that led from the library and council meeting room back to their block.

“I just want them to be safe, do right by them. Raise 'em so that they'll be able to survive.”

Daryl felt so much sympathy for his friend that he really did clap him on the back now, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

Rick sniffed and pressed the balls of his hands into his tearing eyes, halting and putting his back to the wall, so that Daryl's arm trailed off him slowly, his fingers brushing down.

“Hey,” Daryl croaked. “We all want to keep them safe and everyone is helping as best they can. It's gonna be alright.”

“You can't know that,” Rick almost whispered. “Not with what's going on outside the prison, or with the walkers being everywhere, and... with me hearing stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just things. I found a phone, and I heard a voice at the other end of it.”

“Can't be. Phones are dead.”

“I know. And it's... Lori. I hear _her_ ,” Rick admitted, finally saying her name, and reaching out to Daryl, his fists clenched in the shoulder padding of his vest.

“You know she's gone, right?” Daryl cautioned Rick, because hearing of estranged wives even after they were gone was far out of his comfort zone.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Rick nodded, focusing on Daryl with that intense gaze of his. “I also see her,” he clenched his fists until they actually ripped at Daryl's clothes a bit and he unclasped Rick's hands carefully. Clothes weren't easy to come by after all, but now Rick held onto Daryl's hands with a vice grip. “She's there. In her wedding dress, all clean and looking calm. I used to have her on a pedestal, you know? I loved her so much, and then this all happened and she did things...”

“We all did. I did things before and a lot of what some would thing worse after. None of us have a halo. Don't make her into a saint, Rick. She wasn't one.”

“I know, I know,” Rick nodded, his eyes not focusing on Daryl anymore, who had a hard time distinguishing between the upset friend clinging to him and his own fluttering feelings at the fact that Rick was still clutching both his hands.

He was so surprised when Rick actually let go and held onto the sides of Daryl's neck instead that he could not form a thought, let alone say anything.

“If I didn't have Carl, you, the group and asskicker,” Rick gave a first, tentative smile, “I'd lose it completely, let myself get torn into by those things out there just for the hell of it.”

“No,” Daryl shook his head, his palpitating heart making him surge forward, pressing Rick against the wall with his body's full weight. “Alright, stop it. We need you here. Carl needs you, lil asskicker needs you, and I need you,” he couldn't help adding, letting his hands rest on Rick's neck as well so that they mirrored each other, staring into each other's eyes in the near darkness.

“Don't you dare giving up,” Daryl almost whispered, and Rick had to feel his breath on his lips, and he turned his head a little, not away, but inching closer.

There it was again, the intense gaze, that half smile, and Daryl almost leaned in before Rick chuckled embarrassedly: “Look at us, two ripe men pressing together and baring their soul to one another. We stink,” he mumbled, letting go of Daryl's neck, causing him to give up his position and take one step back as well.

“Should grab a shower in the evening,” Rick mumbled, not really looking at Daryl anymore, as he took the first step back to the others. Daryl needed a moment to calm his shaky breath, but the slight hurt at being denied didn't sting as much as it should've because Rick waited for him to follow.

 

After a couple of days, the newcomers were allowed to leave their cellblock and asked what they were fit to do.

“I dunno, digging graves?” Dean asked.

“Let's hope we won't have to do that. Abbie. Jenny. You're good shots. You join Andrea with guard duties.”

“We can watch too. We're very good shots,” Sam said, indicating his brother and him.

“I would offer my services in tending to the garden,” Castiel murmured.

“I can fix cars, work with metal,” Bobby started enumerating his talents.

“Yeah, he once built a panic room all by himself in just one weekend,” Dean boasted.

After the conversation with Hershel on the day after their arrival, during which Dean hadn't even noticed that he had been called Bobby's son because he was too upset over Cas, nobody had even questioned their relation anymore. Bobby was their father to everyone around and if they were being honest, he had been for a long time.

But speaking of, Dean turned around and looked at Cas. They hadn't talked about the thing that had happened, and if he was being completely honest with himself it seemed like Cas had avoided him. Obviously he was just as reluctant to talk as Dean was. He still slept next to him, but the former angel had tried to keep to his own side of the bed as much as he could and Dean had done the same.

Today though, he had woken up to find himself well and truly the little spoon, Cas having tangled his arm around him and straddled his hips with one firm leg thrown over them sometime during the night.

Dean couldn't help but place a gentle hand on Cas' upper thigh, rubbing the muscle there longingly, and stroking down to Cas' knee cap. He wanted this so much, he thought. The closeness to Cas was the best thing to come out of this mess, and now he feared he'd have messed it up completely.

When he had reached his knee though, Cas chuckled in his ear, waking up and his beard scratching the back of Dean's neck a little until he felt Cas' frame behind him freeze.

“Apologies. I remember, personal space,” Cas mumbled sleepily, sharply tugging away his arm and retrieving his leg so that Dean felt like a hot plate Cas had touched for too long.

“Hey, I don't mind it. Come back here,” he called after the angel who was out of the cell with lightning speed. “Come back,” he whispered when he heard a fast footfall on metal, probably of Cas going down the stairs.

Now that they were finally getting their assignments, Dean kept throwing glances at Cas, but whenever he looked at him again, he also saw Sam's resting bitchface, mouthing an inaudible 'what' at him, to which Sam sassily shook his head so that his ponytail quivered from consternation as he mouthed 'talk' back at him.

“We've got a generator out back,” Rick motioned into the general direction in which it was. “We should get some people together, head over there and see if the tombs get overrun again in the mean time. And then you can have a close look, see if you can get them running. For now, we could use them to create diversion when the people of Woodbury come here, but in the long run, we could watch a movie now and again, if we have enough fuel to spare. You could also help make this place secure in case of an attack if we find enough material to work with. The workshop is well stocked.”

Bobby just nodded.

“So everybody knows what to do now,” Glenn took the word. “Let's get to it.”

 

At the end of the day, everyone was exhausted, Bobby had fixed up the generator in rapid time and to celebrate this occasion it had been decided that everyone deserved a shower.

Castiel and Hershel came in last, finishing up their farming work for the day and thought they had also caught the last showers, but when they were toweling themselves off, Daryl slunk in, looking shifty and embarrassed to find that he was not alone.

“Daryl,” Hershel greeted him with a smile as Cas helped him get steady on his crutches.

“We did good work today, but you need sleep, son. You look exhausted,” he told Cas as he saw his face from up close.

“Yes, I am tired,” Cas nodded.

“Then let's get back.” To Daryl, he said: “I don't know if there is still water left.”

“Don't matter. Wasn't gonna anyway.”

“Is this because you do not wish for us to see your scars?” Cas asked, without even seeming to get that he had just said something inappropriate.

“How you know about them?” Daryl came closer, trying to look menacing even though he was mostly shocked.

“I have, if you will, a certain sense of perception that many don't have. But that's about the only thing I have these days,” he added, as if to himself.

“What scars?” Hershel asked.

“Reminders of my old man,” Daryl let him know, the cat was out of the bag anyway.

“I am sorry,” Castiel tried to apologise even though he didn't get why Daryl was upset.

“Well, you'd better be, asshat. What're you talking about, sense of perception being the only thing you got? You got your man! The hell do you come in here and tell me you have nothing when you have everything!”

“I do not understand,” Cas frowned.

“What I wouldn't give to have 'im look at me like Dean looks at you,” Daryl fumed, furious about being found in the showers, although he always avoided them just so nobody would be able to see the evidence of what his father had done to him painted on his back. He'd only come in here because he knew something had happened between him and Rick, and he damn well wanted to be clean, have him _see_ him and now this _stranger_ hit him where he was most vulnerable.

“Let's go, son. Give Daryl some space.”

“Nah, don't wann' too anymore,” Daryl stomped out, past Cas who still processed what he had heard as he slowly walked back with Hershel, swearing that he sensed Daryl going back into the shower room when they were gone.

 

When Cas got into their cell after dinner, he winced slightly when he sat down, rubbing his aching back with one hand over his shoulder.

“Sore?” Dean's voice reached his ear, not from within the bunk like Cas had thought, but from the entrance.

“Very,” Cas sighed, letting his hand sink down and trying to look away from Dean even as he sat down next to him and started kneading his aching back for him. “That feels incredible. Thank you, Dean.”

“Don't mention it,” Dean chuckled slightly.

Cas hissed when he found another kink in the muscle.

“Ok, lift up your shirt for a bit, I wanna see if that's a bruise there.”

Cas did without another thought, but regretted it because Dean's hands on his _clothed_ body had been more than he could handle, but his slightly calloused palms adjusting him to the dim light so he could check for bruises was something else entirely.

“Ok, there's nothing. You're just a lil' sissy about pain,” Dean chuckled, but instead of letting Cas roll his shirt back down, he slowly let it trail up until he pulled it off him.

“How did you do that?”

“Helped Sammy undress when he was too little to do it himself, and you were distracted,” Dean explained his sneaky act, somehow he seemed to have gotten courage to get close to Cas again. 

“Your hands are very distracting,” Cas purred and leaned towards Dean unconsciously until he felt lips trailing up and down his shoulder blades.

“Dean...”

“Hmm?” Dean hummed against him, his arms now sneaking around to Cas' front and slightly tickling him as he began to unkink Cas' stomach muscles as well, all while pressing kisses to his shoulders and neck.

“I... I...,” Cas lost all track of his thoughts, only remembering Daryl saying: “You've got your man!” when Dean moaned: “Turn around, Cas.”

With a sigh, Cas did and watched Dean's face as he reverently moved his hands over the former angel's body again.

Cas didn't know what to do, how to engage Dean into anything that might induce more of these caressing touches, so he leaned forward and closed his eyes.

Dean chuckled, somehow getting the message and kissing him, his hands almost instantly on Cas' face, in his hair, while his body urged him down onto the mattress.

Cas' hands reached up, hugging Dean tightly, moaning low when Dean parted his legs and hooked one over his hip like it had been this morning.

“Dean, this feels incredible,” Cas moaned, giving himself an inch of space to talk before Dean's mouth was back on his, his tongue licking into the former angel's mouth.

“I know,” Dean panted, and rubbed himself on Cas once, deliberate and hard. “You want this?”

“Y-yes?” Cas' breath hitched.

“An answer, Cas. Not a question.”

“Yes!” he moaned, rubbing himself against Dean to get the feeling of friction back.

“Then why didn't you want it before?”

“I don't think I... Can't I answer this later?”

“No,” Dean rasped, sucking at the pulse point in Cas' neck so that he clutched to him even more tightly than before. “You're not getting in my pants until I get some answers.”

“Why? Is this what you normally do when you want stress relief?”

“Stress relief?” Dean stopped moving and kissing, and seemed angry instead. “That's what you think this is?”

“I do not know. As you recall, I have no experience with this kind of activity. And you made it abundantly clear that you have ample one at that.”

“That's not the point, Cas. What's your issue with this? You gotta tell me.”

“My issue is that I am tired and you are aggravating me by arousing me and then asking stupid questions.”

“They're not stupid! I wanna know what's the hold up. Why do you kiss me back, when you say you don't even want it? Why do you want us to do stuff and not want us to do stuff at the same time?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Not to me, it isn't,” Dean shook his head.

“Get off me,” Cas instructed and Dean let go of him so fast that he hit his head on the top bunk.

“Ouch,” he rubbed his head, getting lower again right the second that Cas tried to get up which had them press their noses together, their lips hovering above one another again and Dean couldn't help himself. He kissed Cas again furiously, still rubbing his head even as the angel angrily tugged at his head, his tongue demanding access to Dean's mouth for the first time.

They made out for over half an hour, both painfully hard, but not rubbing on each other anymore.

Cas knew Dean would demand explanations again, and so he preferred being aroused but frustrated in order to keep kissing and not discussing why he didn't actually want to go through with this.

“Cas,” Dean would not leave the matter be apparently. “Is this because we fight so often? Because if that's it, I can try to be better.”

“It's not you, it's me. I'm useless,” Cas groaned out passionately.

“Woah, there. Not the kind of talk I wanna hear when you look like that,” Dean chuckled, wanting to kiss Cas again, but the former angel turned his head away.

Cas was flushed, his lips swollen and slick, his hair that hadn't been completely dry when he got here stuck up on all ends because of how often Dean had run his hands through it, and he pouted. He sat there and pouted, his and Dean's erections pressed against each other, not wanting to talk about the real issue at hand.

“C'mon,” Dean cooed and suddenly through Dean's unusually soft tone and his fond expression, Cas' tongue loosened.

“I can't do anything anymore. I'm _useless_. I need to be protected because I sleep too deep and I am in pain from how much work I did today. Do you know how straining it is to dig around dirt when you could bring whole plains to bloom with just the flick of a wrist?”

“You're still struggling to adjust to being human?” Dean mumbled, for some inconceivable reason opening his pants, then reached out to opening Cas'. “Wanna see what _I_ can do with just the flick of a wrist?” he moaned, pressing Cas back down and exposing both their cocks, that were rock hard and pulsing in his fist.

“That feels good,” Cas groaned, letting Dean jerk them both and relaxing back onto the mattress, caressing Dean above him, but jerking up when the feeling inside him rose higher than he had yet experienced it.

“Just let it come, Cas. Let it wash over you,” Dean guided him through his first orgasm, white liquid leaking out of Cas' cock, leaving him baffled, more so when Dean's eyes fell shut, his mouth opened and his cock did just the same.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a satisfied huff, grinning widely down at Cas and pulling him into a bruising kiss that seemed to last forever, tongues tangling, fingers pulling and stroking on and off.

“I take it my answers were satisfactory?” Cas whispered by the end of it.

“Not even close,” Dean whispered back. “But at least I got some. Answers I mean,” he chuckled.

“I take it you will leave me be now?”

“Not even remotely,” Dean shook his head and kissed Cas some more until they both fell asleep.


	7. One step at a time

In the morning, Dean stretched out, mumbled: “Mornin', sweetheart” around Cas and got ready to sleep some more, only Cas wriggled out of his grasp and was out of their cell with a quick: “Good morning, Dean,” before the man in question had even opened his eyes properly.

“I swear, it's like two steps forward, one step back with this guy,” he sighed as he tied his shoes.

“Mornin',” Sam quipped, his hair looking fluffy and clean after the shower yesterday and therefore his mood had risen as well. “Did you have a good night?” he asked suggestively.

“Did you hear us?” Dean's eyes nearly popped.

“Bars, Dean. Not doors,” Sam remarked in ways of an answer.

“Sorry,” Dean rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

“Ah, don't worry. You were quiet enough, only the kissing noises grew a little obnoxious at about three in the morning,” Sam chuckled.

“Hey, it wasn't that long,” Dean protested.

“Whatever. Just keep it down tonight, ok?”

“I'm not sure there's gonna be any kissing tonight,” Dean shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because he ran out on me just now,” Dean fumed. “It's like he regrets it.”

“Did you talk? Or just jump him?”

“We talked,” Dean shrugged. “He said he feels useless. Being human and stuff.”

“Ah, that makes sense. He thinks he's too vulnerable and he doesn't want to endanger you because you think of him first and protect him instead of yourself,” Sam sounded way too sure about that as if he had thought about the whole situation already.

“That's the same with you and Bobby. Your safety comes first," Dean showed his caring nature once more.

“Well, maybe _your_ safety comes first for Cas," Sam seemed to want to remind him that it wasn't always best to hold other's safety in higher regard as his own.

“Son of a bitch, you're right,” realisation hit him at Sammy's words. He was always taking care of others, and maybe Cas wanted to do that too.

“Well go on, talk more. Let him know that you think he's being stupid.”

 

Dean wandered down the dark halls of the prison. Now that they were partially accepted in the group, they were allowed to move more freely and he had taken the liberty to get familiar with his surroundings as soon as he could.

He searched the inside of the prison first, then the grounds. Hershel was in the garden, with a boy who helped him water the plants and rip out the weeds.

“Hey, you're Dean, right?” the boy asked.

“Yeah. It's Carl, isn't it?”

“Yep,” Carl quipped.

“Have you seen Cas around at all? He's not here as far as I can see.”

“No, but he's not supposed to come out here. He has exhausted himself yesterday. I saw him inside, having breakfast with Daryl earlier,” Hershel told him.

“They looked really familiar, and then disappeared somewhere,” Carl grunted, kicking the ground as if he'd rather be anywhere else and as if that was the reason he was annoyed at anyone who was free to go where they pleased.

“Yeah, that was probably about yesterday,” Hershel added and told Dean about what had happened after their shower.

“Right, thanks,” Dean nodded and almost ran back to the prison, jealousy coursing through his veins. Cas had perved on the guy, he thought viciously. He had hit him with his x-ray eyes and looked at him naked.

Dean cursed continually as he stomped back into the prison, but neither Daryl nor Cas seemed to be around.

He paced through the darkness of the hallways, machete at the ready in case he happened to come by walkers as the inhabitants of the prison called the zombies.

When he had heard a noise, he stopped, quietly opening the room from which the noise had come.

“Yeah, doing good,” he heard Daryl coo breathlessly and an answering deep moan.

Dean crept further into the room, stopping dead when he heard the tell-tale noises of skin slapping against skin and jeans rubbing over each other, the clicking of an open belt and more panted breaths.

“I don't know what I'm doing here,” he heard a deep voice.

“I know, but it feels really good. Just keep going, keep fucking.”

The thrusting sounds seemed louder now and Daryl moaned a few times. Dean knew he should leave, but the voice had sounded so deep, and he knew Cas had been with him, he just had to see...

He saw sweaty locks as Rick thrust into Daryl, moaning loudly and just rutting while Daryl raised a hand, stroking over Rick's heaving flank, his other hand hidden between their bodies and doubtlessly jerking his cock as if he was really close already.

“Fuck,” Daryl moaned as he was coming and Rick panted loudly, a strangled groan heard as he came as well, while Dean retreated carefully so that they wouldn't see him once they were finished.

He swallowed heavily and excited the room on tiptoe.

“Dean?” he heard Cas' voice next to him that startled him because he was still in the mindset that he didn't wanna be caught by anyone.

“Hey,” he grinned, relieved that his fears had not come true and grabbed Cas who flinched away from him.

“Why are you looking so happy?” Cas' voice sounded pissed off.

“Why can you _see_ that I look happy?” Dean asked back, the darkness completely obscuring _his_ vision.

Cas turned around without another word and walked away.

“Wait,” Dean caught up to him easily, even though Cas was walking at the top of his speed and tried to be as quiet as possible so that Dean wouldn't be able to make him out at all.

“Why? What do you want of me?” he said curtly, finally stopping when he knew he couldn't outrun Dean.

“I want an explanation why you keep avoiding me even after what happened last night.”

“Maybe because of what you an Daryl have been doing in there?”

“What?”

“Don' take me for a fool, Dean,” Cas said, his voice so cold that Dean shivered. “I know there was intercourse going on in that room. And you come out, grinning and happy? I know how your soul looks when you've orgasmed, in case you've forgotten about it.”

“I didn't though. I was looking for you in there. But I just saw Rick and Daryl going at it like rabbits.”

“Then why are you so happy?” Cas asked, sounding as if he didn't believe a word Dean had said and was just looking for an angle to pull his story apart.

“Because it wasn't you in there,” Dean boomed out with great relief.

“I don't understand,” Cas said, and Dean sensed him shake his head because he was so close to him. He hadn't even realised how he had meandered closer to the former angel until he had almost felt him moving his head a few inches away. “You supposed I was in there with him? Why? And I still don't understand why you're-” Dean's lips on his stopped him.

Dean stroked his thumbs over Cas' face as he dipped his tongue into his mouth, loving to explore his taste, his little breathy moans that hitched whenever their tongues met and Cas' inability to put his hands on his body. They were balled next to them, Dean could hear the rustling of the fabric of Cas' shirt whenever he tried to move them up again, clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to caress him, but with another lick of Dean's tongue, Cas seemed to lose track and just enjoyed their kiss.

After a few minutes, he finally managed to stroke his fingertips over Dean's rip cage and still at times overwhelmed, he slowly began to reach down and direct Dean's hips to his own.

Dean's heart galloped more and more with Cas' clumsy but hot movements and he smiled into their never-ending kiss.

“I'm glad it wasn't you in there,” he told him when he parted their mouths to be able to focus on rubbing Cas' crotch with a cupped hand. “And I want you to know that I don't think you're useless, no matter what happened to you.”

“Dean,” Cas moaned, wanting to say more, or possibly wanting to open his pants to allow him better access, but they would never know, because they stopped moving together at the very same second, hearing an eerie groaning sound that had become part of their daily lives for too long.

“Cas, draw your knife.”

“I don't have one on me,” Cas fumbled around at his belt loops, cursing himself for thinking he was safe in here.

“Then get behind me,” Dean quipped, already slashing into the first walker's head and assessing how many there were.

“We have to take them out, otherwise Rick and Daryl will be blocked up in there,” he announced, hacking more of the undead to pieces while Cas found a rusty loose pipe which he ripped off the wall to help Dean.

“Be careful,” Dean shouted at Cas, slashing and hacking forward while Cas stemmed the rusty pipe into the oncoming walker's heads.

“There's too many,” Dean muttered, keeping an eye out for Cas all the time.

“We have to get back,” Cas roared when he pulled the pipe out of a walker with a sudden jolt, gooey dark residue leaking off it.

“What's going on?” Daryl suddenly ran towards them, Rick in tow.

“Walkers, lots of 'em,” Rick ran after him, judging what was happening with rapid speed.

“Where are they coming from?” Dean yelled, slashing his way to them.

“No idea, but we gotta take them out before this hallway gets overrun,” Rick yelled back, getting out an axe and parting the head of the nearest walker with a fluid motion.

 

20 walkers later, the four man panted, staring down at the corpses, listening for more coming their way, but they didn't hear anything.

“Seems like there is a breach somewhere,” Rick drawled. “We gotta check that. But first, we gotta take those out into the yard and burn 'em.”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded at Dean who stood a few yards away to take the legs of the walker that was closed, while he grabbed it underneath it's armpits.

Rick went in front of them to open the door and see if the coast was clear, while Cas covered their backs. They were both so far away that Dean felt he had enough privacy to ask Daryl: “So, you and Rick?”

“How do you know?”

“I sorta... heard,” Dean simply said, not wanting to let Daryl know how much he'd witnessed.

“Nah, man. It's nothing.”

“It's not really nothing, is it? You're, you know...”

Rick opened a door that let in bright sunlight and they stopped talking for a bit while they dumped the heavy corpse into the minuscule yard that they came into.

“I'm gonna head back first, you follow in a minute,” he instructed, Cas coming up to them, shuffling a little while Dean waited for Daryl to say something which he did as soon as Rick was out of earshot.

“I like 'im, and it just happened so quick. One minute we were talking, and the next he was all over me and I just, you know, let it happen. Even though I knew he was gonna regret it.”

“Why would he?”

“I'm not... he isn't...”

“You're thinking you're just helping him get through this trying time,” Cas said wisely, seemingly x-raying the other guy's feelings just now.

“I guess he thinks of this as a rebound thing, you know?” Daryl shut one eye because the sun stung in it and blinked up at Dean and Cas, his head tilted a little. “I don't even know why I'm telling ya. None of your business,” he clammed up again.

“Except you _told_ us, maybe you needed to let it out,” Cas frowned. “Because deep down you're very happy about this happening but you feel like it's lacking depth-”

“Quit it,” Daryl raised an accusing finger at Cas, and then turned to Dean. “Tell your man to stop analysing me. I'm gonna deal with my shit, and you should deal with yours. Right now, we gotta move those walkers out.”

“I don't know if he'll listen to me,” Dean chuckled about Cas' confused face, and clapped Daryl's back sympathetically as they walked back in.

“I just don't think he's gay,” Daryl let Dean know a couple of corpses later, somehow not able to keep quiet about this and who better to talk to then somehow who'd understand his problems. “And he just took what I offered him.”

“He doesn't have to be gay,” Dean replied. “I had my fare share of chicks, you know. But with Cas it's just completely different. He's...,” he trailed off because he didn't know how to say: “He's it for me,” without second guessing himself if he was 'it' for Cas too.

“Yeah, because he's special to you. And you to him. I ain't special to no one.”

“You don't know that,” Dean shook his head, clapping the other man's back again. Damn, if he wasn't making a friend here right now, he didn't know _what_ he was doing.

 

After they had cleared the hall and set fire to the walkers, they walked back through the dark halls, seeing no more threats, but still firmly locked at bolted the gate that led down this way, telling everyone not to go there without back up and weapons.

Daryl went out then, in desperate need of some air. He climbed onto the watch tower, Jenny Mills up there too, because it was her turn to keep watch.

“Hey there, handsome,” she smiled.

“How's it going, gorgeous?” he replied, sitting down and dangling his legs off the platform, resting his head on the railing.

“Quiet,” she said, taking in the surroundings. “Couple a' dead ones on the fence, but they'll be no problem during the sweep in the evening.”

“Good.” Daryl flexed his back that hurt a bit because of laying on the bare floor while... while having sex with Rick, he finally allowed himself to think.

He and Rick had gone down the hall to where he told him that the phone was where he heard his dead wife speak to him. They had looked at it, and Daryl had said that he didn't hear anything when Rick held the receiver at his ear. Rick had only nodded and then come closer, laying their foreheads together.

“What are you doing?” Daryl had rasped.

“Please,” had been Rick's only answer before he was undoing his belt and had pressed Daryl down onto the floor.

He shifted uncomfortably at the memory of Rick's cock going in with only spit for lube because it had been years since Daryl's last proper fuck and he had never been in a position to get used to having his ass penetrated. As soon as he had adjusted and coached Rick through how to move inside him though, it had been incredibly hot. But Daryl also had to think about the fact that Rick and him hadn't kissed at all, and he seemed sorta reclusive as soon as he pulled out.

“Whatcha thinkin' about?” Jenny asked, nudging him in the shoulder and sitting down next to him.

“I dunno... You ever had someone you really cared for, but who didn't really like you back?”

“Yeah, couple a' times,” Jenny nodded. “But there was this one guy I really liked. He was great.”

“What happened to 'im?”

“I don't know,” Jenny said, her lip trembling. “I lost sight of him during the early days of the outbreak and I haven't seen him for months. Abbie and I came across a group sometime ago that told us Joe was with them for a time. But I don't know anything about where he is. It's like me and Abbie are cursed to lose the only guys we really care about,” Jenny smiled, her face pained but Daryl knew she wouldn't cry, it just wasn't like her.

“That's why you're not telling her to give up on the search for this Crane guy?" He alluded to Abbie being out in the woods with Sam and Bobby right now to scour the immediate area for signs of Ichabod Crane. "Because you gotta hope that your man is out there too?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jenny nodded. “But enough about me. What about you? You and Rick finally had the talk?”

“Does everyone in this place know about that?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” she smiled.

Daryl sighed, staring into the distance and not even really seeing the empty world around them, or hearing the muffled groans of the walkers down on the ground.

“He fucked me,” he finally said.

“Wow, language,” Jenny blinked. “I'm sure that's not-”

“Nah. That's just what it was. He needed to fuck someone, so I let him.”

“But you enjoyed it?”

“Hell yeah, I did. Was the best lay I ever had.”

“Daryl... don't say it like that. You shouldn't devalue this before you know what it actually is.”

“I'm just a rebound thing for him,” Daryl said to convince himself that it was true and he shouldn't expect more of this. Everyone knew about him liking Rick in a gay way, and Rick had just taken what he could have. A warm body to fuck into was always better than just a hand, he thought, doesn't matter if it was a guy or a girl when someone wanted to bust a nut, it just didn't mean anything. Except that he should do a sweep for lube on his next run. Give it to Dean and Cas as a present as well if there was enough.

“I'm gonna go inside,” he said before Jenny could raise more objections or get his hopes up.

 

In the evening, Daryl rolled himself together in the cell that he had finally claimed for himself, even though in the beginning he had not wanted to sleep in one of these things.

He was just about to dose off when a shadow at the opening roused him.

“Hey,” Rick's voice reached his ear.

“What's goin' on?” Daryl sat up.

“Nothing. Don't get up,” Rick walked in, looking like he was not sure what he was doing here.

“Anything the matter?” Daryl asked when Rick didn't say anything for a whole minute.

“What we did, you know, this morning... Could we do it again?” Rick shuffled a little.

“Course we can,” Daryl shrugged as if it didn't mean anything to him. “Like right now?”

“Yeah, if you don't mind,” Rick was strangely polite, even as he undressed and came over, his hard cock bouncing while Daryl pulled down his pants, spitting into his hand over and over to ready himself.

Rick just sat there and waited while Daryl got himself open like he had done in the morning.

“A'right,” he quipped and laid back, letting Rick climb over him and guide himself right into his hole.

“That feels nice,” Rick smiled and Daryl couldn't help it. The guy was inside him, _fucking_ him. The least he could allow him was to hold him around the shoulders, right? So he did move his arms up, pressing and steadying himself with Rick moving on top of him. He clasped him tightly as he picked up speed, feeling Rick's cock move inside him.

“Yeah,” he moaned when a rush of pleasure sped through him, Rick somehow aiming his thrusts just right.

“That's good?” Rick asked, heaving a little and trying to hit his target again.

“Yeah, just there. Yer fuckin' real good,” Daryl praised.

Rick nodded with a trembling jerk of the head, seemingly overwhelmed at what they were doing here. Daryl banished every thought out of his head until they had both come, but when Rick quietly thanked him, again very polite and with a small smile, he said he'd go back to his own bunk now, he couldn't _stop_ thinking anymore.

Rick and Lori couldn't have had sex since the thing where the former leader of their group, Shane, had lost it and tried to kill Rick, only to have gotten himself killed in the process; they just hadn't seemed close after that. So it must have been months since Rick had done anything, so it could be explained why he had wanted to go to bed (or floor) with him, but it just wasn't anything other than that, he tried to convince himself.

He still tried to convince himself of that two weeks, two supply runs, three fruitless searches for Abbie's partner and several sweeps of the halls to clear them of walkers later. When Rick pulled out of his now lubed up hole for the umpteenth time and actually leaned down to press a careful, deliberate kiss onto his lips before he snaked his body around him and didn't go back to his own cell immediately after finishing for the first time ever, Daryl was 100% certain that it meant nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a short hiatus from this story because life comes in the way of writing too often, but more is coming shortly.


	8. The pieces start moving

The battlement for the attack out of Woodbury that Merle had prepared them for went on as best as they could with no supplies except for what they had, crates and lumps of metal to barricade and provide cover at strategical places, while the newcomers at the prison were out chartering the immediate area square mile by square mile.

“Over there's Woodbury,” Maggie nodded, indicating a road that was obviously barricaded off at the very end, which they were hardly able to make out.

“Got it,” Dean quipped and nodded at Abbie and Sam in his back to take a closer look.

“This is where the herd passed by. They must have done something to keep them clear of their city. But they passed through here,” he told them, nodding at the ground that was trampled as if a giant herd of cattle had passed over it. Since the cause of the trampled ground could hardly be bovine these days, it could only mean a large amount of walkers having come through here.

He looked around, listening intently for any other noises except the four of them breathing. He had thought it a bad choice to part with Cas, who had wanted to come out here with the rest of them and now he was busy worrying how he coped with Glenn, Jenny and Daryl on his team.

After rocking together for the first time, they had cuddled and kissed every night before falling asleep, sometimes Dean ended up initiating hand jobs again, but it had never gone further than that, nor had they really talked about their new evening routine.

Dean only hoped his kisses and low chuckles when Cas was insatiable were conveying how much he liked to do this and felt butterflies in his stomach, together with little lusty pangs whenever he heard Cas come into their cell and squeeze himself close to him.

He had thought about just withholding, not throw his arms around Cas, not chuckle about the scratching of scruff on his neck, or Cas prodding at him to turn around and face him, even when Dean told himself to stay strong that night and not give into Cas' insistence. He figured that was the only way to get Cas to actually talk about why he still treated him like they weren't together every time they met outside their cell and didn't lie in bed together.

But so far, Dean had succumbed every single time because of how much he actually wanted to take anything that Cas was willing to give, but he was hungry for more than he was getting at the moment.

“Right, I think we're close enough to enemy base as it is, so let's find the others, and head back. We know they passed through here but it's getting late,” Abbie said, but in the very next moment she flinched because she had clearly heard a gun shot.

“It must be the others,” Sam pricked his ears, already moving forward while hearing more shots fired.

“Glenn,” it seemed to take all of Maggie's will power not to scream out loud as they rushed through the brushwood, and pretty soon heard more sounds of struggle straight ahead.

By the time they made it to the others, they came up a scene of carnage, Daryl and Glenn finishing off attackers that had come at them with making sure they would not come back to life as walkers.

“Where's Jenny?” Abbie asked, searching for her sister.

“And Cas?”

“They took 'em,” Daryl said with aggression in his voice.

“Martinez, and I don't know who the other guys were, but they waylaid us. Took Jenny first, since she was in the front, Daryl had time to react,” Glenn gave them a run down, while also running toward Maggie and holding onto her.

“But Cas didn't,” Daryl looked at Dean, knowing exactly what his next piece of news would do to him. “They banged him up good, even though he put up one hell of a fight. I couldn't get through to him.”

“Why would this Governor send out people on a suicide mission to capture people?” Abbie grit her teeth, even though every fibre in her body screamed for her to barge in through the front gate and demand Jenny back. She knew it was suicide and they needed a plan of action to get them out.

“I don't give a shit,” Daryl and Dean grumbled at the same time, both about to charge the walls of Woodbury to get their friends back.

“Woah, stop it,” Sam and Glenn rushed forth, putting themselves in the way so the more headstrong members of their exploration party turned that had turned out be be hunted, wouldn't get themselves captured as well.

“We have to come up with something,” Abbie took charge. “Get more provisions, attack when night falls. Come on, you gotta see that that's what needs to be done,” she entreated.

“Right, you're right of course,” Dean seemed to lose his will to fight and the slouched against his brother. “Daryl, go easy on the kid,” he told his comrade and Daryl blinked once before stopping to try to simply push Glenn out the way.

“Sorry,” Daryl quipped and then went over to Abbie who felt the pain of possibly losing her sister very acutely, no matter how competent and strong she was. “We'll get her back,” he huffed out before pulling her into a gruff hug.

“You bet ya ass we will,” Abbie grinned once, her full lips sucked in so it looked more pained than anything.

 

_Meanwhile in Woodbury..._

Neither Cas nor Jenny could see anything as they were forcefully escorted down what seemed to be a hallway.

“At least take those blindfolds off so we can watch where we're going,” Jenny fumed, wanting to kick out behind her and maybe catch their prisoners off guard.

“That would greatly relieve you too of the task to lead us along,” Cas rumbled.

“Shut up,” a rowdy voice in his back quipped and something hard hit the back of Cas' head until he figuratively saw stars, although he could obviously see nothing at all.

“You wait in here, and that nice blow you just got will be nothing against what happens next if we hear any of you talking in here.”

Cas and Jenny felt themselves tied to something that pressed itself hard into their backs, probably a metal post.

“Can we at least sit down?” Jenny fumed when it became apparent that they were gonna be left standing but at least now their blindfolds were taken off. Apparently it wasn't deemed of importance anymore that they saw their surroundings, it was just to make it harder on them to escape should they by any miracle get out of here and try to find a way out.

“You can try and get down, but this asshole here doesn't look like he'll come back up once he sits down,” the man who had led the troop of capturers ripped Cas' head up until his eyes stung.

“Cas?” Jenny asked, her voice filled with panic as she hopped around so she could look at the former angel's head lulling around half conscious at best once the shady guy let go of him.

“You stay here now. We'll be back.”

“At least give him a glass of water,” Jenny shouted after them again, but her shout was only met with a metal door falling shut and a quiet groan as Cas sunk down, his restraints doubtlessly cutting into his arms as he sank onto the disgustingly filthy floor.

“It's ok,” Jenny quivered as she followed his example, nudging Cas' head with hers until he came to rest on her shoulder and could at least breathe without obstruction. “It's ok. It's not as bad as it seems. We'll get out of this.”

She felt her eyes watering at the former angel's troubled breathing right next to her, and distinctly she heard a shuffling sound deeper in their cell.

“Please, don't let it be rats. Or walkers,” she pleaded with thin air, hearing a rattling breath that wanted to take all her hope away, but then...

“Miss Jenny? Is that you?” a weak sounding voice that Jenny would have recognised anywhere if not for the broken quality it had now, swept through the dark room.

“Ichabod?”

“It is I,” the familiar voice spoke and Jenny really would have liked the use of her hands now, because tears were streaming down her face without her being able to stop them.

“Damn it's good to hear your voice, Crane,” her breath heaved. “How are you?”

“I am quite weak. I must have been here a good long while, and I must say our hosts weren't exactly hospitable towards me.”

“We've been searching for you for weeks.”

“That is also in accordance with my reckoning, though I fear I may have lost count of a few days. Wait, does that mean that the leftenant, that Abbie is...”

“She's fine. Or last I checked she was. At least she's better off than us at the moment-”

The door was ripped open at that exact same moment and a head peeked in so that Jenny, who eagerly stared into the semi darkness from where Crane's voice had come, started back about a battered up black and blue face with filthy hair and bloodstained clothes on a haggard frame greeting her there.

“I said no talking in here,” a gruff voice swept in but when the door was closed once more Jenny whispered to Crane nonetheless.

“What do they want?”

“There was talk of waylaying a community close by, that's what I caught. But as to the matter why I'm being kept here, I can provide no light on. It seems cruelty is a novelty to be used unchecked in a world where there is no more legislation for the sole purpose of it alone.”

“I see. But now at least that's gonna change, Crane. That community you heard off? Abbie and I stayed there for a while. And since I am the only one up to being questioned, I bet I'll soon look no better than you.”

“If that be the case, Miss Jenny, I fear they will dare to lay a hand on you indeed.”

“We'll see about that,” Jenny fumed and during the next hours, she exchanged a few words with Ichabod whenever she could risk it, telling him about her new companions and what had happened since they had last seen each other. Cas did not wake up once in the mean time.

 

_Back at the prison..._

“You're all wanting to go on this rescue mission?” Rick asked the returned search party, Daryl in particular.

“Done the same for Michonne and Glenn,” Daryl said. “It's no different to me. They're with us now.”

“Ok, if you're all sure you know what you're risking. We need people to defend this place or you might not have somewhere to come back to. I think they're counting on us separating, weakening us. Particularly the newcomers, which is why they targeted Cas and Jenny. They think they'll be easier to break and turn than someone who's been with us since the start.”

“But that's a stupid ass plan,” Sam intercut Rick's speech. “Jenny would never tell them something about Abbie, and Cas wouldn't do that to us either.”

“That could work to their advantage,” Rick nodded. “That the Governor doesn't know about that. That will make them hold on longer. I think you should move pretty fast, while the rest of us hold down the fort, cut off their way back, keep the injured out of it. I'm guessing they'll be. You should have seen Glenn and Michonne when they came back. No point in beating about the bush,” he looked at Abbie and Dean, who set their shoulders and nodded, their resolve to bring their families back together in one piece stronger than ever now.

After the meeting was over, Daryl and Rick walked out of the library together.

“Hey, you really think this is a good idea?”

“Damn right,” Daryl nodded. “You said it yourself. If the attack we been preparing for happens during the time we're gone, we can ambush them from behind.”

Realising what he had said, Daryl blushed and by the dark chuckle emanating Rick, he had noticed his lover's innuendo as well.

“Hey,” he stopped Daryl's stride and pressed him against the wall. “I just wanted you to know that I really enjoy our time together. I still wouldn't say that I'm gay or nothing, but there's just something about you.”

“Whatcha sayin'?” Daryl asked, his heart beating like a drum.

“I'm sayin', you're special to me, always have been but now it's just different, you know. And Carl looks up to you, you're amazing with Judy, I'm saying...,” Rick chuckled and instead of saying more, he just pressed his lips to those of a very surprised Daryl, groaning a little and flinching away from Rick's passion.

“Sorry, did that surprise you?”

“Yeah, could say that,” he quipped, his voice deeper than ever, rubbing his lips that still had some of Rick's saliva on them.

“We've been fooling around for a while,” Rick chuckled, not giving an inch and still looming close.

“Yeah, my ass still remembers that first time without lube,” Daryl said, anything to break the moment because the raw feeling in Rick's voice and actions was too much for him at the moment. A few minutes ago they were planning a rescue mission, and now here Rick was, saying things he had never expected him to say.

“I just wanted you to know before you go out there again, I guess,” Rick chuckled. “I'm very grateful that you were there for me when I was all alone, you've healed me,” he couldn't seem to help himself and leaned in again, kissing Daryl softly like he had never been kissed before. Usually his sexual encounters only lasted as long as it took for someone to come in him and pull out with an expression that showed various degrees of disgust for themselves and Daryl the most while the guy that fucked him dressed again. This was unfamiliar, and it terrified Daryl more than he could say.

Before he could really get into the kiss, Rick parted their lips already, whispering in that same raw voice: “Just make sure you get back in one piece, ok?”

“Promise,” Daryl rasped and then chuckled nervously: “You still gonna say all them nice things when I tell you the rest of my plan?”

“What rest?” Rick asked into the darkness.

 

“Oh hell no,” Glenn stemmed his fists onto his hips, Dean, Abbie, Maggie and Sam next to him already, staring at the cell that contained Daryl's brother.

“This is a dumb idea,” Rick crossed his arms, all of them looking at Merle as if they expected him to grow retractable claws any second.

“He knows the layout, the tactics of the person in charge there, and when I'm with the group, he won't pull any stupid tricks. Right, brother?” Daryl asked Merle.

“Promise,” Merle said, putting on a soft smile that didn't fool anyone, but something in the way he used the same word as Daryl before softened something in Rick and it suddenly hit him that Daryl was right. They were brothers, had been through some deep shit together and had always come out on top. He was here to protect his little brother after all.

“Why are we even thinking about this?” Abbie asked now, obviously not as convinced as Rick. “Nobody really trusts him to keep any of us, except for Daryl maybe, alive.”

“Hey, if you want my man Joe slicing into your sister and do nothing about it, go ahead, Whoopi.”

“I swear if you don't shut up, I'll improve your... face...,” Abbie broke off. “What did you say? What Joe?”

“My apprentice. Taught him a few ways to get information out of people if they weren't willin' to give any. With me gone, the Gov will have put him in charge of personnel improvement, probably of faces too,” he chuckled hoarsely.

“What's the full name of this guy?” Abbie strode forward and even though she was a pretty small woman, she managed to get Merle in a chokehold through the bars.

“I dunno, lady,” he spluttered with a strain. “Crubrick, Crumblepot, what the hell do I care?”

“Corbin?”

“Yeah, that's it. Now let go of me.”

Abbie did, laughing loudly as if something really funny had just happened and when Dean caught her gaze, he flinched away as if she had lost it now.

“That Governor of yours will be one crony short pretty damn quick,” she still laughed as they unbolted Merle's cell door and got ready to march into Woodbury to reclaim their people.


	9. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from DCBB writing hiatus. For anyone who's wondering, I will completely ignore the clusterfuck that was the Sleepy Hollow finale of Season 3 for the rest of my life. Killing Joe and Abbie? WTF!! Never been so disappointed by a show in my entire life. Nevertheless, I will finish this story though it's gonna remain the only time I write something Sleepy Hollow related.

Pretty soon the group of scouts lay in waiting outside Woodbury once more while Jenny was being dragged off into a room that without finding a better word for it, she'd had to call it interrogation room, where she was strapped onto a chair, by sheer force and not minding if her limbs were broken if she resisted.

No matter how she struggled, she couldn't get free and shouted abuse at her captors.

They didn't let themselves be disturbed in any way however, and simply strapped her down, and left the room so that Jenny felt like nothing but a bag of spoiled goods that they had little use for left behind to take out like trash once they were done with her.

When the door opened once more, she had come up with several escape plans that went from biting people's fingers off to uprooting the chair, so that she needed a second to stop her trying to get free of her bounds to register the guy who was staring at her.

“Joe?” she breathed out, all fight leaving her body at once. “Joe! It's you.”

“Jenny?” Joe Corbin walked further into the room, shivering as he softly touched her face, Jenny leaning into the touch immediately, trying hard not to feel weak about herself but she was just so damn happy to see him. “Jen, it's you. It's really you,” he sniffed, untying her bounds and helping her to her feet, a grin on his face and his second hand coming up to card through her curls. 

“Doesn't smell like your favourite shampoo anymore, does it?” he teased.

“You try keeping hair I got clean in this state of the home economy,” she chuckled, before stopping short, feeling his face in her hands, but having a thousand questions she needed to ask him.

“Did you do that to Crane?” she moved away ever so slightly, raising her eyebrows.

“Crane?”

“He's here. Imprisoned. He looks like he's been tortured.”

“What? Where?” 

“I don't know, in some room where they kept me too. Why're you here, Joe? What do they want from me?”

“They want to use you as bait, to lure a bunch of killers out of a prison nearby so we can go and live there. Think about it. It's safe, secure. We need it.”

“I don't have to think about it. I know what this prison is like, because Abbie and I live there. Joe, they got them all wrong. They're good people. And they don't torture for fun or information.”

“Jen, I...”

“Look, we can talk about this later. You have to trust me. When are they planning to attack?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Joe sighed, but knowing Jenny too well to question her sincerity. 

“Then we need to get out of here before then. I don't think Crane has much longer if he doesn't get decent food and a doctor. Joe, he looks like a scarecrow dipped in blood. We need to get him out of here. And the guy that got captured with me needs a doctor as well.”

“Look, if I have to get him to a doctor, you gotta give me some info. Anything about the layout of that place. I can't go back there empty handed,” his jaw was set and he suddenly looked abrasive.

“What happened to you? Why are you all soldiered up again?” Jenny asked, her voice weaker than she wanted, but this whole thing was completely overwhelming her and she'd been through too much to be strong right now. She knew she clung to Joe as if she was dying if she didn't told him and her only consolation was that he was holding her tight enough to bruise as well even though now he wore the same stone cold expression he'd had after getting back from his service. 

“Cause I was under the impression that we're going to war, and now I still am, even though I gotta switch sides now.”

“Can't take the solider outta the boy, right?” Jenny smiled.

“Yeah, you can't. And in this world, I don't even think you should. Not anymore.”

“Ok, I'll tell you some stuff. But first, you gotta improve my face a little.”

“What?”

“Come on, you gotta make it look genuine.”

“I'm not gonna hit you, J. No way.”

“Pussy,” she grinned and playfully threw some punches on him to induce him to retaliate, but Joe just held her by the shoulders and stopped her hopping around him like a boxer. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I have a better idea. Just pretend like you don't like it, ok?”

Jenny blinked when Joe leaned in and bent her head up, a hitch in her breath as he finally kissed her after months of not seeing each other, it felt like the first time it happened.

“You're not selling this very well,” Joe smiled into her mouth, locking her arms behind her back and holding her wrists tenderly. “You need to scream as if I'm hurting you.”

“Make me,” she grinned.

 

“Ya bunch a pussies get the plan then?” Merle asked into the darkness, keeping exactly by the unmonitored part of the Woodbury wall he had failed to inform the Gov about when he was still working for him, his own best interest in mind should he ever want to escape, not even thinking about ever wanting to break back into the compound, while making sure the rope that they had thrown over it with a hook was tightly secured.

“Yeah, we got it. But how do you hope to get over there? You only have one hand with which you can climb,” Abbie asked.

“I'd thought I'd use your shoulders to push me over, chocolate chip. You ain't much taller than a step ladder anyway.”

Abbie pursed her lips and looked so done so that Merle surprisingly repented: “Sorry, gal, didn't mean anything by it. I've gotten pretty good at doing things with one hand, don't you worry.”

“Well good. But stow talk like that,” Abbie was still angry at being talked to like that but this was not the time to teach Merle Dixon some manners.

They let themselves drop within the bounds of Woodbury quietly, though Merle still slid the throats of two guards patrolling the wall. 

“Was that really necessary?” Abbie frowned at the pool of blood oozing out of a broken corpse that Merle had stabbed through it's skull and which had been a walking and talking human just a minute ago.

“It is. Cause all a them are the Gov's loyal followers an' you don' wan' 'em up 'gainst cha, Abbs.”

Abbie bit her lips about mentioning to Merle that she being called by her name by him for the first time by him. She guessed that he had to know that as well and it was a step in the right direction. This step in the right direction might be the last one he took. Or that either of them took because they could die at any second. Staying focused was imperative here. 

She saw Dean and Sam filing out, doing a quick sweep around the building that was functioning as the prison here while she, Daryl and Merle kept a look out for more patrols. Dean's head appeared about a minute after he and Sam had run into the building, nodding once, so she and Daryl followed them inside, while also wearily watching Merle. 

Inside, Abbie moved forward steadily, seeing a post down the dark corridor and signing to Dean, Sam and Daryl. They all nodded and in the end it was Sam who bashed the butt of his gun over the other guy's head.

“Nice, Sammy,” Dean said but Abbie stopped him with a silent hand gesture from saying more when she heard movement on the other side of the wall. 

“One, two, three,” she mouthed as they reached the door from within they'd heard the movement and again Sam did the heavy work by kicking the door in and then stumbling out of the room at once, blushing furiously about Jenny and Joe within an intimate embrace, liplocked and very much on the way to having sex, until they flinched apart and two identically wide smiles showed themselves on their faces when Abbie ran in and hugged both of them at once. 

“It's good to have you back,” she blinked at the ceiling to compose herself, because she had found Jenny alive, but they were by no means safe already. “Let's get going,” she moved out of the room again but Jenny's voice stopped her.

“Abbs. You'll never guess who's here as well.”

“Yeah, I know. Cas. We gotta find him,” she stood in the doorway, eager to move on and get the hell out of here in one piece and without casualties. 

“No, Abbie,” Jenny shook her head, her lip quivering a little. “Come on, I'll show you. Just you gotta remember he's been here a while and is not looking really good, ok?”

“Yeah, sure,” Abbie was confused but followed Jenny deeper into the compound knowing it was better to follow her sister than to argue, Joe opening the door to a completely dark room. Something heavy bashed against Abbie's elbow as Dean stormed past her and lifted the unconscious body of Cas off the ground, screaming the former angel's name over and over until Sam reminded him to quiet down and they would be able to take a look at Cas once they were out of here and that he was still breathing at least. 

While all this was happening, Abbie only registered it with half an ear turned to the conversation of the brothers, while her gaze was transfixed by the sight greeting her in the darkest corner of the room.

Her voice nearly broke as she breathed out: “Crane?”

“Leftenant? Abbie?” 

That was definitely Ichabod's voice escaping a weakened, tortured body and Abbie moved forward tentatively, kneeling next to the injured man, stroking Ichabod's greasy and bloody hair out of his forehead, the tears she was holding back since finding Jenny finally spilling, but her voice was firm when she asked: “What have they done to you, Crane?”

“Nothing I could not endure in the hopes of seeing your face again,” Ichabod grabbed her hand, those keen eyes slightly dulled by pain, but love shining through in the wrinkles surrounding them and the pained smile playing over his lips. 

“Smooth, Captain Crane,” Abbie chuckled, wiping her eyes and trying to get her head back in the game. “Can you walk?”

“I will attempt to, though I might need assistance,” Crane tried to stand up, wobbling around for a second before Abbie was by his side, her smaller frame perfect for him throwing an arm around her shoulders and use her as a crutch. 

“Let's get outta here,” Abbie panted, Crane's weight laying mostly on her shoulders but she frowned at Dean when he came closer to help her carry him. No one but her was gonna lay a hand on Crane unless she asked for help. Dean retreated and stepped on Cas as he went back which finally elicited a weak groan and he flinched and jumped into the air. 

“God damn it, Cas,” he cried as he knelt down and lifted the human frame up with his heart heavily palpitating. “Cas,” he breathed out almost inaudibly, recognising the former angel was pale and sickly looking, but his eyes were finally open.

“Hello Dean,” Cas smiled faintly raising his hand and stroking his fingers across Dean's stubbly cheek weakly, looking more pained than happy, and his eyes rolled up and closed a second later, his body losing the limited amount of muscle power he still had, his hand falling back down even when Dean lumped his lifeless body over his shoulders, nodding at Abbie, both carrying their loved ones out of immediate danger. Even if neither of them knew if they'd make it out alive because by now they heard movement in the hall leading to the prison cells. Woodbury knew they were here.


	10. Familiar/Unfamiliar

Their situation wasn't good. Abbie couldn't fight because she had the nearly unconscious weight of Crane draped around her. Dean couldn't fight because he had the lifeless form of Cas thrown over his shoulders, trying to keep up with the others. 

Sam, Merle and Daryl walked out front, Joe and Jenny behind them, weapons drawn at the ready, Daryl aiming his crossbow, Merle holding the knife that served as his right hand in front of body like a teakwondo block, but he also aimed a gun in his left hand. 

The Governor's patrols came at them, the civilians of Woodbury standing around and watching the onslaught as Merle killed man after man either in hand to knife combat or long ranged with his gun, Daryl more covering him and he others than anything else and Sam still uncertain about whether or not he could really kill people, rather opting to incapacitate the ones that dared come close to him. Jenny and Joe aimed high and killed several men with headshots just as they'd do with the walkers, both looking stern and unfeeling.

“Send 'em all, y' bunch a assholes if you want to see your insides, courtesy of ol' Merle's knife. What are ya waitin' for?” he jerked his knife out of the skull of an attacker, and raised it with blood dripping off the blade and made a quick jerking movement with his neck that scared the bystanders away, some screaming a bit and barricading their doors again. 

“We should go,” Sam said, assessing the situation and seeing that no reinforcements charged at them, walking over to Abbie, helping her with Crane because she looked exhausted and shaky. He'd have liked to help Dean, but knew enough about him that he wouldn't try it. Dean trudged on like an obstinate donkey, his legs wobbling under Cas' weight but he carried him back to the wall surrounding the compound all by himself. Only heaving him over the wall, he allowed Sam and Daryl to help him, Merle staying behind until the very last second as they carried the wounded into the woods where they'd parked the old RV the Atlanta based group had spent their time in during the days and weeks after the outbreak. 

“How long are we gonna wait?” Dean panted after he'd gotten some excuse of breath back after lumping Cas into the vehicle and making his way down the path. 

“Should leave at once, take some detours in case someone follows us. Though I guess they're too busy shittin' their pants,” Merle chuckled hoarsely, leaning in the door leading into the back like he didn't know if he belonged there, the savage knife held outside so that it wouldn't drip blood inside the already smelly RV in which 8 or more people had slept at times, leaving all kinds of different stains from blood and gore and their unwashed bodies. A bit of blood wouldn't have made any difference to the overall state of the thing. 

“I'll drive,” Daryl quipped, knowing his brother was about to bolt, but wouldn't if he went back to the prison with the group. Merle was free, he'd done some good but deep down Daryl knew he feared himself, throat cutting was nothing he would ever get used to, but he would do it to save his brother's hide. No questions asked, not showing remorse although he felt it. 

He sat down in the passenger's seat, looking like he'd not belong here, leaving the driving to Daryl while everyone in the back fretted about their wounded. 

“Leftenant, I feel quite faint,” Ichabod gurgled, bloody saliva pearling out of his mouth. 

“It's ok, it's not that bad. It's probably just from how much you had to move right now. We have a doctor. I'll all be ok, you'll see.”

“I trust you implicitly.”

Dean on the other side wasn't making much headway with getting Cas to wake up again. He just sat there, staring at him looking angry as if he was glaring at himself and judging himself for the tears that ran over his face uncontrollably. 

Daryl yanked the engine up to stuttering life, Merle sitting uncomfortably next to him, smearing the ugly red from his blade onto his already stained khaki pants, mumbling: “I'll never got used to doing this. I got asked how many people I killed before I met the Gov, by that blonde chick that lives with y'all in the prison.”

“And the answer bein' none,” Daryl quipped, wobbling a bit as he tried to keep control over the wheel while maneuvering out of the debris field that surrounded Woodbury, taking back routes back to the prison with a marked space to wait for an hour if they were being followed. All techniques that Merle had taught him when they had been out in the woods and hunting. “Y'ain't as bad as ya think yaself, Merle. There ain' no more meth in this world. You can start over. I'll talk to Rick about lettin' you stay on.”

“He ain' gon' be happy about dat, but I figure the man got a soft spot for ya.”

“What makes y' say that?” Daryl blushed, and for a minute there was only the groaning of the wounded heard in the back of the RV as they moved through the darkness. 

“I didn't lose an eye, little brother. And 'sides, even a one-eyed guy would see 'im being all over ya.”

Daryl grunted, the only reply he was capable of at the moment, reaching the spot they had marked earlier to wait for a while, not shutting the engine off because he wasn't sure he'd get it to life again. 

“You got a good thing, lil brother,” Merle rumbled so quietly that Daryl wasn't sure he'd really heard his voice. “Don' wan' fuck thangs up for ya. I should haul ass.”

Daryl replied equally quietly so both men could ignore this conversation ever having happened in the future: “You'd fuck things up fer me if ya left. Ain' no me if there ain' no you. An' I wan' stay with them... an' 'im.”

“Can't make any promises, Dar',” Merle hummed, but it was enough. He'd try not to annoy the population of the prison just because he could, doing it mostly for his brother, but really having grown used to company in Woodbury, even if the majority of those people had already been corrupted by what the Governor thought of as amusement. Most of them didn't even know what the Governor forced his loyal guard to do, only got glimpses of what the biters were like during the faked fights they staged on the Woodbury grounds. Merle closed his eyes, reminiscing the times during the 90s when he and Daryl had loved blowing off steam with some beers and the nightly wrestling showing. Fake fights, made for show, nothing more. That's how he'd felt whenever he'd been in the arena, dodging the biters and fighting against the other members of the guard, but with a gut wrenching fear pooling in his stomach. Also something he'd taught his little brother. Hunting deer had something to do with respect because if you weren't careful you may end up with an antler in your gut and no game or roast in the oven. Merle knew that and so he never let go of the fear of the undead monsters surrounding him. Fear is what kept them both alive for so long. But he knew as long as Daryl was part of this Atlanta group, he'd not have to fear for him anymore at least. And just maybe he could relax enough to be part of them as well. 

Merle chuckled as the headlights illuminated the Sheriff's deputy who'd cuffed him to the roof with walkers on the prowl and his little boy, expression fierce, looking like a cowboy with his father's hat shading his expression until he dissolved in smiles when Daryl had guided the RV through the gate of the prison and he ran towards Merle's good for nothing redneck brother and jumped onto him, Daryl grinning from ear to ear as he hugged the kid tight, his gaze directed at Rick.

“No problems?” Rick came closer, touching the back of Daryl's hand strangely tenderly.

“Nuttin' we couldn' handle,” Daryl calmed him. “An' here? Lil' Asskicker still good? Eatin'?”

“Judy's fine,” Rick nodded, his voice heavy, finally clutching Daryl as if he had planned to do it all along but hadn't dared until he knew everything yet. The Sheriff held onto Daryl, squeezing Carl inbetween them as if he feared they'd all fall apart if he didn't and Merle suddenly felt like an intruder. 

He averted his face, kicking the ground and spitting a bitter drop onto it as he turned his back on Daryl's new family and helped with unloading the wounded.

 

Cas didn't wake up until early the next morning, tossing and turning and muttering low in his throat whenever he moved, always stirring Dean awake. Hershel had ascertained that Cas was just exhausted and as long as he slept and awoke in a regular pattern, he'd be fine and to avoid him getting unconscious at any cost. He couldn't do more than that without x-rays or any other way to make sure Cas' brain was alright and he hadn't suffered more grievous injuries.

Dean prayed for Cas to be ok. He literally prayed his ass off. Not to an absent god, or even more absent angels who'd left them with this mess in the first place, but he prayed to Cas, hoping he could hear him with the rest of grace he still held. 

“Heal yourself, man. I need you with me. You got that? There ain't no checking out now. Not on my watch.”

Cas' head turned towards Dean whenever he quietly prayed to him, a smile on his face that gave Dean hope and finally when the sun rose, he opened his eyes, seeing Dean softly snoring next to his head, in their shared bunk, finally too exhausted to keep watch and he pressed his palm into Dean's hand next to him, the Winchester stirring slightly but not opening his eyes. 

“Cas?” he said hoarsely. 

“I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” Dean mumbled, still mostly asleep and his arm sneaked around Cas' hip and pulled the former angel flush against him, his eyes wide open and pleasantly shocked at how those three simple words affected him. 

 

Hershel's biggest concern at the moment was the badly injured Ichabod. When he'd first seen the bloody cough of the man out of his time, he'd quietly thought that he had to be done for. Coughing blood was a sure sign of inner bleeding and there was no way he could stop this. Taking the bullet out of Carl when he'd gotten shot back on the farm had been a different matter and not all that complicated with medical training. Cutting into flesh was the same whether or not it was animals which Hershel was trained to do, or whether it was getting a round out of the shoulder of a little boy. But to take care of something as severe as the torture that Crane had suffered was a whole other matter. 

He felt that Ichabod had several broken rips and he tried to set them as best he could, but even if he found the source of the bleeding, the man would have to lie in bed pretty still for weeks if his rips were to heal properly. He couldn't set them anew and breaking them again would be out of the question in as weak a state as Abbie's boyfriend was. 

He told the Mills' sisters and the new arrival Joe Corbin this several times, asessing the rest of Ichabods' injuries and seeing that they would all heal in due time, but he still continued to cough up blood, and everyone ran around panicked, helping him sit up and finally Hershel heard a telltale rattling in Ichabod's chest that sounded familiar. 

“I know what I have to do. There's curdling blood in your lungs and it's bleeding more. We have to puncture it and suck the curdles out if you wanna survive this. The bleeding doesn't look to bad and it might have slowed down considerably, but I'm gonna have to cut close to the broken ribs and suck out the blood. 

“That's barbaric,” Abbie fumed, tears on her face as she held Crane up who was still coughing deeply. 

“It's necessary, leftenant,” Ichabod rattled out. “I am not coughing deeply enough and this would be the only way to rid me of the blood I can not get out otherwise. 

“There must be another way. Can't it stay in for the time being and get disintegrated by the body by itself later?”

“I'm afraid not. If something's inside the lung once, there is no way out again. It's a one way street.”

“Then you gotta do it, Mr. Greene,” Ichabod laid back and held Hershel in a steady gaze. “I trust you implicitly.”

“Beth, can you go and get my kit? And some straws from the kitchen. The sterile ones are behind the normal ones. You can't miss 'em. They're in a bag. Big ones if we've got 'em. Maggie?”

“Yeah, daddy?” Maggie said, her voice heavy with tears, but steady because her father needed her.

“Can you make a fire?”

“For what?” Abbie shook, clutching Ichabod's hands tightly, neither of them knowing who needed the hold more right now. 

“For heating up the knife, leftenant. It sterilises the metal and it makes it easier to cut. Less blood flow.”

“I forgot,” Abbie chuckled. “This kinda surgery must seem way more normal to you than it does to me.”

“Indeed,” Ichabod smiled. “But that is not to say that I do not miss your modern medicine, especially the dentistry.”

“Damn it, Crane. You can not make me laugh when you're about to be cut open and sucked dry,” Abbie smiled at the memory of a drugged up Ichabod having been to the dentist and being really funny and drugged up the entire way home. He'd told her he'd loved her first during his induced state, a slip he'd made up for in due form when he'd asked her to dine with him and to take her dancing under the stars the next day. Abbie had never known such gallant dating, and had she not been head over heels for Ichabod already by that time, she would have been ever since. 

“Are you ready?” Hershel interrupted them gazing into each others' eyes, nothing but Ichabod's troubled breath heard. 

“I am. Abbie, you might want to take some air, my love.”

“Nuh uh, Crane. I'm stayin' right where I am. You're gonna pass out soon enough and I'll still be here when you wake up again.”

Ichabod nodded solemnly, closing his eyes and bracing himself. 

A second later, a piercing scream was heard in cellblock C, a short squeak of rusty bed springs as Ichabod reared up and then passed out with a thud and then several different voices giving orders where to insert sterile straws and the sound of straws scraping over the empty bottom of lemonade glasses, sucking the last dollop of the sweet liquid in, except this wasn't where the sound had emanated from since the better times before psychopaths and walkers murdered and tortured freely.


End file.
